


Immortal

by C_P_Addams



Category: Life and Death - Stephenie Meyer, Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Humor, Human/Vampire Relationship, Multi, Slow Burn, Twilight Renaissance, Twilight Series Rewrite, Twilight Spitefic, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Witch Bella Swan, Witches, meaning Beau is a witch, we still say fuck in this universe, why yes i did change the names of some of the side-characters and i will not apologize for it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27377443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_P_Addams/pseuds/C_P_Addams
Summary: When Beau Higginbotham-Swan moves to Forks, he doesn't expect life to change much. Then he meets Edythe Cullen, the doctor's little sister - who can stop rushing vans with her bare hands and whose skin is cold as ice. As he learns more about this new world, he starts to wonder if his humanity is worth keeping.Subtitle:  Mortality reimagined
Relationships: Bonnie Black/Charlie Swan, Carine Cullen/Earnest Cullen, Edythe Cullen/Beau Swan, Eleanor Cullen/Royal Hale
Comments: 7
Kudos: 31





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> So this is coming out before the sequel to "Mortality" for one reason only -- there's a lot more to change in "New Moon" than I imagined, and I don't have the spoons to crank it out during the last month of this semester. But I can crank this out, with weekly updates every Tuesday!  
> For those who read "Mortality", the changes I made there will also exist here when it comes to ages, ethnicities, and characterizations (more or less). However, Beau and Bella aren't the same people, and neither are Edward and Edythe, and so on. Trust me when I say this will be different enough to warrant reading.
> 
> And hey, when the "Midnight Sun" rewrite comes out, at least you can say all three of these were free XD
> 
> With love, Charles

" _Oh how wrong we were to think immortality meant never dying_ " ― Gerard Way

Before now, how I would die was a long ways off. For the longest time, suicide or accident seemed like the most logical outcome. But I never expected this, to be giving up my own life, thinking I'd be saving another, only to learn how ... pointless it all is. How pointless my sacrifice is. And, weirdly, I'm okay with that.

I watch without breathing across the long room, my eyes narrow and my teeth grinding. I stare into the dark eyes of the hunter, and she looks back at me with a pleasant grin. I'm trembling, but I raise my hands in defense. I am not ready to do this. To face the claws and teeth shimmering in the fluorescent lights. But what choice do I have?

As of now, it's either her or me.

This never would have happened if I stayed with my dad, if I had never even looked in the direction of Forks. I'd be safe. Not facing death. But as terrified as I feel, I can't bring myself to regret every choice that has led to this. To regret ... _her_.

The hunter smiles in a friendly way as she saunters forward to kill me.


	2. Unnatural Shade

Windows down, my father and I cruise through the blistering Phoenix sun. I watch the perfect baby blue sky with a somber smile and a heavy heart. I already miss the sun, the light. I look at the hooded flannel on my lap, my fingers lightly tracing over the edge of my sleeveless t-shirt. I bid my freckled arms farewell, clutching the green and gray cover to my chest. My only other carry-on is my phone and earbuds. I face northward, to my distant destination.

All the way in Washington state, a town named Forks exists, protected by a thick covering of clouds and rain. When I was a baby, my father escaped from its oppressive shade, though he sent me back every summer for 14 years. I stopped visiting the north between fifteen and now, content to see my mom over Skype instead. Looking back on it, I think I hurt really her doing that.

It is to Forks that I now exile myself — an action that I take with a frog in my throat and fear creating crescent indents on my lip. I'm so used to the heat and sun of Phoenix, a day where sixty degrees is _warm_ sends a shiver down my spine.

I'd better get used to shivering.

"Beau," my dad, Rene, says putting his little car into park, "I'm going to say this again; you _don't_ have to go. I mean, you're so close to finishing school, you won't even need to worry in a couple years."

I face my father, Rene Dwyer, a thin man with the wide, electric, childlike blue eyes and force a smile. His light brown hair just barely blows in the breeze, and I clutch my flannel to my chest. It's absolutely _cruel_ of me to leave him. My erratic, harebrained father who can barely cook. How can he fend for himself out there? I consider accepting his offer right as logic cuts in. He's married, has Phillipa. He'll have food, gas, and someone to call when he needs a shoulder.

Rene doesn't _need_ me, not like he used to.

"Pops, I _want_ to do this," I lie, letting my hair fall in front of my eyes. "You know I can't stand traveling so much, and this way I can focus on school." And you won't be trapped in Phoenix while your wife goes on the adventure you crave. He looks visibly relieved at that, her hands even reaching to rake his shaggy hair from his face.

"Alright. This is just ... sudden. I'm going to miss my allstar." I mentally cringe at the nickname. I haven't played in years, I want to remind him. But I don't. I let him win this round.

"I'm going to miss you too, Pops. I'd better get in there before the plane abandons me. I love you."

"I love you too. Text when you get to your mom's house," he reaches over and gives me a squeeze on my shoulder. I want to hug him, but I'm already cutting it close ... I grab my belongings and head to the doors.

It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour's drive back down to Forks. I spend the entire time blasting music, singing softly to myself and drawing the view in my little sketchbook. It's a little dizzying, but it keeps me from thinking about the hour I'll be with my mom. I'm dreading it.

My mom, Charlie—short for Charlotte–-is a sweet, friendly woman, and has been really nice about the whole situation, even seeming genuinely excited for me to move in with her. But after three years just talking over the computer, things are bound to be awkward between us. We aren't talkative to begin with, and I'm not the jock Rene tried to make me be. Knowing this makes me wonder if we'd even have something to connect over.

I ... don't know my mother. The woman who brought me into this world. That's just _pathetic_.

We land in Port Angeles to a light sprinkle of water, thunder far off in the distance. I pull the hood up on my flannel and take my bags, eyes scanning the parking lot for a car or truck with Charlie beside it.

Charlie is waiting for me beside her cruiser. I cringe, feeling my cheeks wrinkle, but approach as fast as I can manage. I don't like all the eyes turned in our direction. I don't like how everyone can see Charlie's police uniform, or her doors that label her as the chief, the head honcho. I pray there are plenty of used cars for sale as I walk to her.

To my surprise, Charlie approaches me and throws her arms around my chest, standing on her toes to press her cheek to mine. It's warm, it makes my heart swell. I embrace her in return and chuckle, letting my soul slowly flow back into my skin.

"My little Bo boy... if I can even call you that." She snorts, rocking back to her heels. I notice her dark, chocolate brown hair, bottomless eyes, and warm smile as she slowly shrinks to my chest-level. Last I saw her, I was at her shoulders.

How the turn tables.

"Oh, shut up." I playfully hit Charlie's shoulder, and we slide into the cruiser. "It's good to see you too, Ma." I don't call her Charlie to his face, I'm not allowed. But the word 'Mom' leaves a weird taste in my mouth. This is going to be an adjustment.

I take my bags and my case and start toward the trunk, insisting to Charlie that I could handle the load. Sure, my balance it a little off, but what's the worst that can happen? Always underestimating the scenario, my foot manages to find the singular pot-hole in the lot and send me to my face, and my duffel of clothes to fly out of my hand.

As I work to my feet, I hear a man curse loudly. I take the instrument case in my hand and settle it and my suitcase in Charlie's back seat as I search for the AWOL bag. A man is on the ground, rubbing his ass with a sour look on his face.

"Oh God! I-I'm so sorry, sir." I rush to him, getting my bag and helping him to his feet. He's a businessman, a stern look in his eyes as he glances me over and scoffs.

"Just watch where you're going, punk." I nod, skittering back to the car and slamming myself in the front passenger seat with the bag still at my chest. Charlie settles beside me, taking the duffel and tossing it in the back before starting the car.

It takes twenty minutes for the silence to break.

"I've got some news. Do you remember Billie Black any?"

"Billie..." I chew my lip, searching my memories for any mention of him. I can see a beach, a tall woman with long black hair and a loving smile. And a gaggle of little boys by his side. I grin and nod my head. "From La Push, right?"

"Yeah! She and I would go hiking or fishing, you and her young'uns would play in the sand. Well, as of a few years back, ole Billie is wheelchair bound. Meaning her Chevy is for sale. It's an old truck, yeah, but it's got a good body and runs fine."

"How old is old, Ma? I don't know if I can afford to fix it after I buy."

Charlie's cheek quirks, her brow raising. " _You_ buy?"

"I've been saving to get myself a car ... I've got about $1,500 set aside for it."

"Ahh. Well, the truck is old enough to be your grandpa." Oh no... "And you can use your money to buy some clothes. Two cases?" She glances in the rearview mirror. "And a guitar. What's in the suitcase, anyway? Bricks?"

"I-I have a lot of books, and uh ... pencils. I've got plenty of clothes, Ma."

"You're going to need more than one jacket, a few pairs of jeans, and some button-downs, Bo boy."

"How in the world did you..." _Click_. "Wait, why don't I need to pay for the Chevy?"

"Because I already did!" She beams with pride, as much as one can beam without a smile playing on their lips. "Billie should be dropping it with her youngest about the time we get home."

"You're serious? Oh my God! Ma, thank you," I gawk and laugh, still in awe that Charlie had even considered buying something so extravagant for me. And yes, a potential rust bucket is _extravagant_ in the Charlotte Swan dictionary.

"Well, now, you're welcome," she mumbles before returning focus on the road. Seems she's embarrassed by my thanks. I lean over and plug my phone into the AUX port, and we sing along to the same music she introduced me to a decade ago. After a while, we both stop to simply vibe along, and I glance around my new surroundings in pure terror.

It's so green — an alien planet.

It's _breathtaking_. The trees morphing together, living watercolor of hunter and forest greens, shocks of amber trunks breaking through. The golden sun rays glitters among the topmost foliage, my eyes following it upward. The longer I look, the closer to Forks I become, the less vibrant the world is. A strangely teal film smothers the world, from my shirt to Charlie's gray uniform. I don't remember this part of my visits. I stare at my hands, mouth agape. This ... this isn't right.

We pull up to the small, two-story house Charlie had bought with my father 20 years ago. The early days, the only days, of their marriage were spent in this weirdly green yellow house. There, with a long, lanky body leaned against it, is my new truck. Without thinking, I step out of the still-moving cruiser and trip over my own legs.

Lucky for me, the body against the truck isn't still, and with a cry from us both they prevent me from face planting beside the tires.

"You know, my mom said you may fall for me, but I didn't think it'd be literally." I brush myself off, ignoring the stranger's words so I can focus on my truck.

Faded red, with rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. It's much older than I imagined, and seeing the massive dents in the bed's side should make me wary, but I can't help but love this thing. The Thing. I rap on the metal, solid iron, and grin wickedly.

"I could destroy so much in this..."

"Ha!" The boy cackles, holding his stomach. "I like you already. I'm Jake," he extends his hand. "Jacob Black. I haven't seen you in forever, Beau."

"Likewise." I shake his hand, glancing down a little to his face. Soft cheeks, dark yet bright eyes, and a bit of acne tell me all I need to know about this pubescent Quileute. He's a _baby_. "You're a lot smaller than I remember."

"I'm amazed you remember me at all." He rolls his eyes, tightening his ponytail. "Nice hair, by the way. Comb it much?" I reach up and pull my hair back in time for him to notice my mom. "What's up, Chief Swan?" Jacob looks over my head, waving.

"You didn't drive here alone, did you, Jake?" Charlie inquires with a knowing tilt of her head. "You know that's illegal, you're only 15."

"If you didn't witness it, you can't bust me."

"Yeah, yeah." I watch her head for my belongings and jump in, taking both cases with ease into one hand, and then lean further in to pick up a parting gift from my step-mom, Phillipa — a base guitar. "I have hands too, Beaumont."

"I-I got it, Ma" She exchanges a glance with Jacob. I clear my throat, shifting the subject. "So, uh, 15? Will I be seeing you in the hallways?"

"Nah, I go to school on the reservation." Jacob stands straight, still just around my cheekbones. God, am I shorter than _anyone_? I feel my spine creaking downward to compensate "I just came out to drop this thing off and pick up some meds for my mom. Which I already have," he shakes a CVS bag in his hand, "so I'll head home in a sec. If I can bum a ride from the Chief."

"Man... I was hoping I'd have one familiar face."

"Don't worry your curly little head, I'll be visiting plenty with Mom. She and Charlie spend almost every Saturday together. It's almost romantic."

"Cute," I turn to Charlie, who is standing with her arms crossed, and my face makes a stupid grin. "I'll get settled, Ma. See you around, Jake!"

"See you, Beau!"

"I regret letting you two meet..." Charlie says right as I close the front door with a laugh.

It only takes a few steps to get my ass upstairs. My bedroom faces west, looking out over the front yard. It's familiar, considering it's been mine since I was born. I slide over the wooden floor in my socks, eyes glossing over the blue walls and off white, moth-eaten curtains at the window. Pieces of my childhood, worn with time. There are a few differences from the past; a daybed pressed lovingly against the wall to my right, pillows sprinkled about the purple blanket. I unpack my two cases, setting what few clothes I brought in the pine dresser, my laptop on the desk that is definitely second hand, and my collection of graphic novels on the small shelf that doubles as a nightstand.

Lastly, with a shake of my head, I settle the cherry-red bass on a stand Phillipa made sure to send with me, standing it beside the desk.

I go to the armchair still tucked away in the corner and flop, pulling my hair over my entire face so I don't have to look at my situation. It's nice to be alone, even if it's just until she drops Jacob off at La Push. A relief to stare dejected at the ceiling, listen to the sheeting rain, and softly sob into my hair. I'm all out of "when"s and "maybe"s. Tomorrow, I'll have to face being the new kid.

Forks High School has a frightening total of three hundred and fifty-seven—now fifty-eight—students. Students that have known each other since pre-k. Whose families have been together for generations past. My class in Phoenix had over seven hundred kids, and I barely knew five of them.

How will the people here see me, the new boy from a big city? Would I be a curiosity? A _freak_? No doubt, they're expecting a tall, buff football or volleyball player, not an overlong beanpole who can't walk a straight line and or look people in the eye.

I stand and trudge to the bathroom, intending to tuck my few necessities in the vanity and shower caddy, glancing through my tresses as I go. I pass the dirty mirror, and I can't help but stare. I touch my hollow, pale cheek, a stark contrast to my dark hair, the eyes that look so innocent on my father looking ghostly in my eye sockets. I don't know if it's the light or just my mind showing me sallow, ghastly skin. What sunburn and freckles I do have are already fading away, melting into the cold, blue haze that covers everything in this town.

The evening goes by in a muddy rush as my brain goes over the disaster that no doubt awaits me in the morning. New people with old friends. There won't be room for me. Not that I have a chance at finding my clique, anyway. I couldn't even fit in the the stoners at my old school, and they liked _everyone_. I've narrowed the reason down to me. Being overlooked while drawing in some far-off corner of the school, my headphones always on full-blast. Not getting the attention of any other student because they never thought I was worth it — or so it seemed.

I'm starting to think my brain has a virus.

Before I can make it back to my room, Charlie calls me down for dinner. Going down the stairs, a warm and savory scent hits my nose. I peek into the kitchen, laughing when I see her plating lasagna for us both at the small table. I grab some cherry soda out of the fridge, not noticing that my favorite drink — canned iced coffee — is already on the bottom shelf. I switch drinks and rattle the can.

"You went all out, didn't you? Last time you cooked for me, it was Taco Bell." She laughs, playfully flicking the bird. "You know I'm right."

"Yes, I remember that night. We both had food poisoning. But, after you went home, I figured it would be wise to take some cooking classes. And watch the food channel from time-to-time." I walk over and peck Charlie on the cheek. "Hey now, no need to get mushy."

"I'm just proud of you, Ma. And here Pops told me you'd be helpless and I'd have to cook here, too. I have plenty of experience, after all." She freezes for a split moment and shakes something off her shoulder.

"Yeah, and that is what I've been trying to prevent. You're my kid, you ain't cooking for me. Charlotte Swan isn't helpless, and don't let no one tell you otherwise. Now, sit down and eat your food. It's made special. Meat-free, double cheese."

It's well past midnight when I finally drift off to sleep, able to muffle the pounding of the rain under my thick pillows. It comes like it always does; slowly, starting at my toes and making its way to my brain at a crawl. Then its fingers lace around my neck, clawing at my veins, and pull me under.

In my sleep, I'm haunted by bright, pulsing red eyes. A feathery touch, hands around my wrists, at my throat. Freezing lips at my neck, laughing, mocking me. And... a whisper.

" _You're mine.._."

Breakfast with Charlie is fairly quiet. We munch on the eggs she made, and she a plate of bacon, his nose deep in the newspaper while I stare at the temperature gauge in horror. I remember how I felt in Arizona. When 60 was the lowest measured temperature for most winters. I would shiver so hard my teeth clattered. It's in the middle of winter, deep into January, and the high is still under freezing.

After a few minutes of gathering her keys and gun, Charlie pecks my cheek and wishes me a good day. She didn't leave much for me to clean up, so I hurry up the stairs to get dressed.

When the time to leave hits, I speed through the drizzle and hop inside The Thing. Nice and dry, with plenty of space for my bulky backpack. I turn the engine and check the radio clock. If I had just thought, I could play a CD on my ride to school. But at least the radio itself works. I blast the local rock station and back out of the drive.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, despite never being there before. Like the other major buildings, it is just off the highway and had the most obvious WELCOME sign on the entire road. **Forks High School** in massive red letters that are both eye-catching and ominous.

The campus is strange, appearing more like a line of cloned houses with old brick than an actual school. It doesn't have the same feel as an institution, feeling isolated with the endless green of the forest encasing it. But one thing that makes me like it better than my old school is the total lack of fences and metal detectors. Phoenix's paranoia always had me on edge.

I park in front of the first building I see, the lot empty. I figure it's either for the staff or completely off-limits. Still, the door says Front Office. Better to run in, get directions, and run out than to wander the school like a lost puppy. Carefully, I step out of the truck cab and have to catch myself on the door, my sneakers slipping from the sidestep, almost sending me to the pavement. On the plus side, no one is around to see that... I gather myself up and start toward the door. Taking off my hood, I get a look around the office. It's small, bright, and has the faint smell of nail polish remover. The only sounds are the ticking of the clock and the click of someone's fingernails on a keyboard. I approach the desk, a man looking up at me with a paternal smile.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi, yes. I'm Beaumont Higginbotham-Swan, I start today," I'm taken back by the awareness that fills his eyes at the mention of my name. There don't seem to be many Swans in the area. Well, at least I had a minute of anonymity ... "Is it okay to just ... have it say Swan? The full name is a bit of a mouthful."

"I'll email your teachers, son, don't worry."

I stay in the school's warm office longer than I intend to, stuck in endless chatter. The secretary, who really needs to touch up his roots, explains my schedule and shows me the best routes around the strangely scattered complex with a chipper voice. I cringe at every "Beaumont", but there isn't much I can do about that. Not everyone needs to know my preference, especially people I don't want to get close to.

"Now, you have a _wonderful_ first day, and come back if you need any help. Okay, Beaumont?"

"Y-yes, thank you. Bye." I take the papers in my hand and head back into the rain, my head low. People have already arrived, despite school not starting for another half hour. To my relief, I blend in pretty well with everyone — heavy parka and hair hidden in the hood was a smart move this morning. By the time I get back to the Thing, it seems the entire school has filled in. The large population of older vehicles fills me with an odd sense of comradery.

Yes, these are my people. Those of shitty gas mileage and cabs that smell like mildew.

I drive around the school, filling into the traffic line until I'm led to an empty spot in Student Parking and cut the engine, ignoring the glares from tired students as it startles them awake by how loud The Thing is. Before I even think about getting out, I examine the map, trying to memorize it. The last thing I want is to have my nose in it all day. But for good measure, I tuck it in my front pocket. Pulling the bag with me, I carefully slipping from the cab of the truck. I inhale and let myself calm. I can do this. It's just school. No one's going to bite me. I pull up my hood and melt into the crowd of teenagers.

I focus my attention on the parking lot, counting the rust buckets that look to be in worse shape than mine ever could be, pride boosting my step with every number. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen ... hang on... I stop in my tracks, standing off to the side of the walkway so others can move around me. This one stands out, locking my eyes on it. It's silver, and while I can't see the make, it is a lot newer than the other student vehicles around it. In near perfect condition, too.

"Must be a rich kid," I snicker to myself, now looking for my destination.

I manage my way to the cafeteria, building three right in front of me with its garish bright yellow "THREE" in large letters at the east corner. My breathing quickens as I approach the door, nerves really starting to get to me. Everything that could go wrong flashes before my eyes. I could fall in front of the class, stammer my name out. I could knock someone over without even seeing them...

I shake the thoughts from my head and follow two black raincoats into the building, making myself as small as possible. The three of us part ways a few feet in, I head to the right and them to the left. The classroom — my homeroom and English class — is small, somewhat dim, and crowded by people hanging around the coat rack. I copy two girls who are hanging their coats up in front of me and head to the teacher.

The thin, aging woman with bad acne and a name tag that identifies her as "Mrs. Jameson" rips my student slip from my hands without care. Then he perks up, looking at me in surprise. She gawks for a moment and then signs it, files it, and points me to the one empty desk in the corner. Knowing my face is cherry red, I count my blessings for the lack of forced introduction and go straight to my seat.

I take out my school notebook and my small notebook, opening both to an empty page. I can feel the eyes of my classmates on the top of my head. Once my butt hits the seat I curl up, knees on my chest, and examine the list of required reading. As expected: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer ... I've already read most what he's assigned to me. All I need to do is go over the notes I'd taken already. Hell, I could even edit my old essays. Even if it is cheating, it saves me the effort

I zone out from her lecture, drawing in the margins of my notebook. Eyes, squiggles, smiles with sharp teeth and forked tongues ... before I know it, I've drawn a demon in the middle of the notebook page

The bell rings me back to reality, and I see a thin, gangly girl with black hair lean across the aisle to my desk. Her smile is friendly, but the sudden movement catches the attention of everyone within four feet of us. I gather my things, looking down at my desk. I know it's rude, but a random girl wanting to talk to me isn't something I'm comfortable with.

"You're new, right? I haven't seen you around before."

"Yeah, I am. Beau Swan," I extend my hand, and she shakes it with gusto. "Nice to meet you."

"Oh, you must be Chief Swan's kid!" She shakes her head like it's obvious — which it is — and chuckles. "No wonder Mrs. Jameson didn't bother introducing you. I'm Erica, by the way. Erica Yorkie. So, where are you headed?"

"Government, building six. Why, you going to show me around?" I pull my bag onto my shoulder, laughing softly at her expression. "Don't act so surprised, there's no other reason to approach the new kid in school."

" ... that's a fair point. And yeah, if you need. My next class is in four, so it wouldn't be much of a detour."

"I'd appreciate it, Erica. This place is kinda weird."

"Tell me about it," she shakes her head. We grab our jackets, and she stops me from putting mine on like normal. "Like a cloak. Trust me, you'll want more protection than just the hood." She demonstrates, and leads us through the rain to the even-numbered buildings across the courtyard. I cling to her backpack to keep from getting lost. We practically kick the doors to building six down once it's in sight. Erica laughs and musses her already disheveled hair.

"Ah, I love the cool breeze. Wakes you up."

"I don't think I've seen this much rain in my entire life." I pull my hood down, spotting my next classroom from the entryway. "I grew up in Phoenix. It rains maybe four times a year max." Erica's eyes grow huge.

"That sounds ... horrible. N-no offense! I just can't even _imagine_ that."

"On the bright side, we get plenty of sun," I answer honestly. Erica squints, looking me over. "What?"

"Seems it missed you completely, Beau." She chuckles, her entire face crunching together. I have to roll my eyes, though I laugh too. "Which is honestly impressive, considering your height." She waves her hand over me, and I pull back a bit. "Let me guess, SPF 100?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I've always been prone to burning." She halts and motions to the door. "Oh, we're here."

"Yep. And with that, I wish you luck. I gotta hurry before Mr. Unger counts me as tardy. See you around, _Arizona_!" She winks, turning on his heels and waving as she runs to her building. I smile and return the wave. _Excitable_ , but tolerable. And surprisingly nice. I might have misjudged this place.

I shake my head and go to the next room.

The rest of the morning passes quickly. My Trig teacher, Ms. Varner, is the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. It doesn't take long for me to hate the class and teacher, though I already hated her based on subject alone. After ten minutes of stammering out my favorite books and hobbies ... which no one cares about ... I'm ready for murder.

Two classes in, I recognize a few of the faces. Not so much their names, mostly because they don't come up to talk to me. Well, except for one person...

This tiny boy I share both Trig and Spanish with, with beautiful chestnut curls and doe eyes. Jesse Stanley, a perky guy who's up to my ribs, can fill my silence with every bit of gossip and know-how about Forks High School during the walk to the cafeteria. I can't keep up with him, but he doesn't mind. He keeps his hands clasped together, his tenor voice the only one I can focus on, and almost drags me to what he dubs the "usual table". Slowly it fills.

Jesse introduces me to all of them, but goes so fast I'm barely able to hold on to the names. Erica, however, I know right away. Everyone's eyes lock on me just long enough for my anxiety level to churn my stomach. One boy, the first person who comes close to me in height, changes the conversation to summer vacation. I'm finally able to pull out my little notebook, humming and doodling absently.

A massive temperature drop sends a shiver down my spine, pulling my attention a few tables away. My eyes widen as I look at them. I want to write what I see, but my hands aren't able to move.

They sit in the corner, in direct sight of my table. There are five of them. Not talking, barely eating, staring in different directions. Their clothes are neat, in muted colors, and they appear well off. But none of these things draws me to them.

There are two girls. One is dark-skinned, with long dreadlocks. She towers over the others, lean and toned with a pleasant smile, and no doubt a laugh that could warm anyone's heart. Her clothing softens her appearance and covers her arms completely. Even in the few seconds I look at her, she tugs his sleeves down slightly, keeping it just along the bottom of her palms.

The second girl looks to have a natural tan, and honey hair that might be dyed because of the warm, brown roots. She wears baggy clothing that only makes me wonder how her body is built ... and then look away because of how perverted that tought was. Her face cloaked by the soft waves of her hair.

The last girl is the shortest of them, with a messy bun that shines like copper flame in the muted indoor light. Her body is thin, but not to any extreme, and there's something about her angular face that seems ... almost ill. She has over-ear headphones on, her eyes closed and mouth moving to unheard lyrics. In total bliss. I swallow hard at the sight of her thin lips forming a smile.

The boys are exact opposites. The tall one is statuesque, with a figure to combat the likes of Bond-era Sean Connery. If he wasn't sitting there, I would swear he jumped off a highly edited magazine cover. I take him as proof that perfection exists. His hair is golden, undercut and even, with a slight pink glimmer to it. The short boy is pixie-like, with feminine but strong features, his black hair shaved down to the scalp, and his pie-eyes staring into space like he's engaged in a contest with a ghost.

There is no way he's old enough to be in high school...

So different, yet exactly the same. The ones with light skin appear almost luminescent, the one with dark skin has an oddly blue undertone. And their eyes ... I have no clue if the red-haired girl is the same, but the four sets I can see are solid black, like a shark. And they look exhausted, bruise-like circles surrounding the sharp whites of their eyes. Like they've been awake every night for the past 17 or 18 years. And so inhumanly designed. The very air around them draws you in, and I can only imagine their voices are like a song.

They're _beautiful_. They're **terrifying**.

My curiosity fills to the brim.

"Who are they?" I ask Jesse, my mind swimming. He looks over to see who I mean, though considering my tone and lack of local knowledge, I'm pretty amazed he even _has_ to look. I follow his gaze, locking eyes with the red-haired girl.

We stare at each other for a solid second, her head tilting. I feel a buzz in my skull that makes me flinch, and her eyes widen in surprise. She turns away before I can fully register the movement. Deeply unsettling. I look at my tater-tot loaded tray, Jesse snickering in my right ear.

"That would be the Cullen Clan. Well, so we call them. Only two of them are Cullens. You've got Emmaline, the tall one with the dreads. Then there's Alex Cullen, the small one who looks like a 12-year-old, and the Hale twins — Roland and Jasmine. I think they're Dr. and Mr. Cullen's foster kids." He whispers so softy I have to lean in to understand he. It's like he expects them to just appear out of the air right beside us.

"Roland and Emmaline seem close," I mutter, a stupid pang of envy striking my chest.

"Oh! That's because they're a couple. Like, live together and everything. Uh ... hey Erica, what's Emma's last name again?"

"How should I know?" Erica protests through a mouth full of burger.

"You take the same chemistry class!"

"Doesn't mean I pay attention to her." She swallows the bite. "What I do know is the girl is a total joker, but smart as hell. Half the time she finishes the work before I get done with the first question."

She goes off on a tangent with how she wishes Emmaline — Emma — would tutor her in that class, but I focus on the name. Matter of fact, all of them have uncommon names. Or, well, unpopular ones. They sound like they belong to grandparents rather than teenagers. Though none of them really look like teens. I don't dare turn around to double-check that analysis. If the redhead is looking over here again...

"It kind of sucks that Dr. and Mr. Cullen can't have their own kids, but hey, at least they get a chance to have a family." Jessica smiles at that, leaning on her hand. "I don't know how long they've had Alex, but he is super nice. Always helps with the dances, so does Roland. Really, the only one that doesn't socialize at all is Edith." He says her name with such venom it makes me jump.

"Uh ... wh-which is Edith?" I look back at them, meeting eyes with the red-haired one at the same moment. Her face mirrors mine in curiosity, and even a pinch of confusion. Like I fail to meet some expectation she has. The buzzing returns to my head and I tear myself away with a groan. I don't like this... Jesse's finger crosses my vision and it leads me right to the same girl, who is — thankfully — not looking over here anymore.

" _That's_ Edith, doctor's little sister. How weird would it be to go to school with your aunt?"

"They're all ... very nice looking." I can't bring myself to say what I mean. Beautiful. Breathtaking. Angelic. _Unnatural_.

"Oh, definitely. But I wouldn't bother trying to mingle. Other than Emma and Alex, they don't talk much. Especially not Edith. Arrogant asshole won't even look at people when they speak to her." Jesse huffs, shaking his head. "At least Jasmine will nod or make a grunt, but Edith? Nothing. It's like no one exists but her."

"You're sure it's not something else entirely? I mean, maybe she's just shy."

"Oh please, Beau! A chick that hot being shy? A likely story." And just like that, she changes the subject.

To avoid any more awkwardness, I join in, chuckling and talking about homework and the building arrangements. The Cullens keep appearing in my mind, bordering on obsessively. After a while, the five leave the table en masse. Their movements are too fluid, too well-timed. The one called Edith makes one last glance at me before vanishing from sight. My gut churns, it wants me to avoid them. I doubt I'll listen.

When we enter the next classroom, a boy from the table named Angel tells me to wait for the teacher in front.

"I-I'm sorry, Beau," the giant in pastel stammers, looking at his feet. "She's super weird about seating people." he shuffles in place, and I reach up to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. Angel looks at my hand, then at me, his sweater tickling my fingers.

"Don't worry about it. You just sit, I'll be fine." Angel nods and sits beside his partner, a blonde girl with gelled hair. A familiar girl with gelled hair. One that sat and stared and me and Jesse during lunch, but never bothered with an introduction. How rude.

I lean against the whiteboard while I wait for the teacher and look around, noticing all but one person has a partner. Next to the center aisle, I recognize Edith Cullen and her unnatural features, headphones still covering her ears. The teacher lays a hand on my shoulder and says my name. From my peripheral vision, I see Edith snap to look at me. Her face morphs into something terrifying — and is gone in a flash.

I hate this class.

My brain buzzes like a hive of a million panicked hornets. Dr. Molina, as she introduces herself straight off, hands me my books and points me to the single empty seat. My head is too busy for me to ask to work with no one.

I walk down the center, almost trembling, to my seat. I pull the chair as far away from her as I can and sit, pulling out my science notebook with a locked jaw. I greet her without turning, but my eyes disobey my order not to look.

Her eyes are a dead, deep, inescapable void. I shiver, scribbling in the margins of my notebook with my head straight-forward. I see the Cullen girl shift, leaning away from me, scooting to the very edge of her chair and facing the window like something smells foul. It doesn't take a Sherlockian level of deduction to realize something about me disgusts her.

I let my hair block her from view, making a dark curtain between us. I turn my ears to Dr. Molina's lecture, writing every important detail on cellular reproduction that I can pick up. I realize a few minutes in that I studied this already in Phoenix. God, did we just go at a lightning rate out there? I stop my writing and start drawing. Jesse. A weird looking Cheeto that Erica was eating. The scrunch of Angel's nose when he laughed during lunch. The eyes of the girl sitting beside me ...

And try as I may, I can't stop myself from peeking through my screen of hair at her. Slowly, but surely, her upper body relaxes. She even sits at the center of the stool after fifteen minutes. But her hand remains clenched at her thigh, veins bulging an eerie bright blue under her ghastly, flawless skin. If you didn't see the insignificant details, you would think she is just another bored student. I swallow and hope that I'm new enough to exchange science classes.

Though taking the same time as the others, my first Biology lecture feels like it will never end. I try to convince myself I just want to get home, but my locked focus on the overly tense figure next to me proves I'm lying. She never fully relaxes. She's solid as a statue. I don't even think she's breathing. Is this how she always is? Maybe I judged Jesse's anger too harshly. I hesitate a glance over at her, facing her. The glare that I meet pulls the breath out of my lungs, turns my blood to ice.

Toward the end of the class, Dr. Molina hands papers back, complimenting Edith on her accomplishment and offers her a soft, motherly smile as she sets the paper down and quickly searches for the next student's assignment. I can't help it, I glance at her paper. 110% — she even got the bonus questions right — and I realize I've been misspelling her name in my head the entire time.

Who the fuck names their daughter _Edythe_?

At that moment the bell rings loudly, and the much fancier Edythe Cullen is out of her seat. Towering over me at this angle, she is away from the desk and out of the classroom door before the sound of the bell has even registered with anyone.

I gather my things, grumbling under my breath about how arrogant she must be. I have to sit for a moment and breathe. I don't want to cry, and the tears in my eyes threaten to fall. I reach for my sketchbook with shaking hands.

"Hey, Beau!" I turn, Angel and his lab partner approach me with friendly grins. "This is Michelle Newton, she's from California."

"No way?" I chuckle, taking her offer for a handshake. "I used to vacation there as a kid."

"Oh, sweet!" Michelle says in an overly excited volume of voice. Maybe it's her jelled curls, maybe it's her impression, but this gal reminds me too much of a Golden Retriever. "It's good to meet you, Beau. I'm on my way to gym class. What about you?"

"Same here," I say, cringing. "I'm not looking forward to it."

"Eh, no one likes it. Chances are it'll be volleyball for the millionth time. Just try to get hit, you'll be fine. C'mon, Coach Clapp makes late people run suicides instead." I nod and follow her and Angel, losing him about halfway down the hall. So far, she's been quiet, but once he's gone, Michelle supplies most of the conversation. She's oddly relatable. She moved out of California at ten, and misses the sun just as much as I do. Turns out, she's in my English class too, but she had to talk to the teacher about the reading.

"I've done most of it already if you need help, Michelle." I offer, pulling the list from my binder. "You can go over my old notes, I'll even let you copy them in your own words. Easier to understand that way."

"Seriously? Wow, thanks, Beau. Were they part of your old school?"

"Yeah, we went fast for some Godforsaken reason. Though a lot of what we read, like the works of Chaucer and Shakespeare, have summaries and modern translations that make it easier to understand. I read those in my free time back home to get my grade back up."

"Not exactly my idea of a good time, but I get that."

As we enter the gym, he asks, "So, did you stab Edythe Cullen with a pencil? I've never seen her act like that." I cringe, especially at Michelle's emphasis on her behavior. "I mean, Edythe's never been a social butterfly, but she's not hostile either. Just ... weird."

"She's really never acted like that before?"

"Not that I can remember. She looked like he was in pain or something."

"I don't know why, honestly. I never even spoke to her..."

"That's just freaky," Michelle lingers with me a bit, confusion on her face. "If I'd been next to you, I probably would have talked your ear off." We both laugh. She departs when I enter the boy's locker room. I think about Michelle's words as I wait for the coach to bring me my gym clothes.

I keep my eyes trained on the floor, ignoring the occasional snicker and point aimed my way. I've heard it all my life, but never more so than after middle school, when showering after gym became a requirement. Too lanky, too soft, too thin, too tall ... I wrap my arms around myself until the booming voice of an older man pulls my attention.

Coach Clapp gives me my uniform, but tells me I don't have to play today. He explains that they're in the middle of a match and it's gotten heated, so if I want to I can either watch or take a study period. Without hesitating, I ask for a library pass and rush my way to the lone building.

I settle at a corner table, away from the other students. I pull out my iPod and sketchbook, playing soft music as I take my thoughts from today and decorate the page. Soft curves, shadows that heighten contrast, smooth and even lines. It isn't until I'm half-way finished that I realize just what I've been drawing to summarize my day. Or, rather... _who_.

I continue with the drawing, not wanting to waste the paper. I focus on her features, her behavior ... the odd buzzing that happens when she's around becomes a cloud around her head. A kind way to illustrate it, considering how it makes my head itch and eyes water.

As I draw, I hum along with the song, not noticing when another person appears across from me. I look up, jolting from my skin as Edythe Cullen motions for me to take out my earbuds. I slam the book closed before doing so.

"C-can I help you?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

"I would like to ... apologize. For how I acted, so ... I'm sorry, Mr. Swan. I ... you ... good luck with whatever that is." She stammers, motioning to my sketchbook, and turns on her toes, disappearing as quickly as she appeared.

The last bell rings. I slowly make my way through the crowds with homework in tow, using the scenery to take my mind off all the weirdness of today. The air is lighter, much colder. My breath appears in front of me like smoke. Everything around me appears metallic from the sheen of water. Before I realize it, I'm opening the door to the Thing, warmth embracing me like an old friend. Like a second home in this strange, unusually blue hole.

I check to be sure I'm the only person within ten feet before covering my mouth with my backpack and letting out a scream. All the bottled-up energy makes the truck shake. I huff a couple times before being torn from my panic by a cellphone buzz. It's a text from Rene. I grit my teeth and open it.

"How did your first day go, allstar?"

I hide behind my hair and let out a loud groan. Oh, dear lord, how do I answer that?


	3. Curiosity

When I wake up for the second day of school, the first thing I notice is the absence of sound. I sit up and squint at the blurry window. It's still gray outside, so a hoodie is a definite, but at least it isn't raining. And hey, I can do some splashing in the parking lot. I take three strides to get to the bathroom, much quicker than Charlie, who is shouting for me not to use all the hot water.

Something about this day feels better than yesterday, and as I brush the knots out of my hair, I wonder just why that is. I mean, weather aside, it seems to be a typical day in Forks. Maybe it's because I have new people to talk to, and I know what to expect. That is quite the weight off my shoulders, come to think of it.

I shake my head and turn the water off. I can't risk lulling myself into a routine so soon. You never know when things are likely to change. A shock of cold water sends a scream out of my mouth, hammering the point in.

Mrs. Jameson has written on the board our task of the day. Read over _Macbeth_ and take notes. It can be silent, or group work. I'm not really given that choice, as both Erica and Michelle crowd around my desk, begging for help. Michelle even goes the extra mile with a puppy pout.

I pull my hair in a ponytail and break out the old notebook, ready for almost anything. Fifteen minutes into my mini-lecture, Erica seems to understand. She's mirroring the study strategy I've been using for a while — been using since 6th grade in fact — to help simplify complex phrasing. Hell, she even starts helping me explain what's going on by the time Michelle's face meets the top of the desk.

Which... I can't really blame her for that.

"I don't understand what they're saying!" She groans with a nasally undertone. "The language is too damn old, how can anyone read this?"

"This was the language of the common people, actually," I say, leaning over and transcribing the phrase into modern English as a last-ditch effort. "My old tutor used to translate the phrases for me so I could compare them, helped me pass 7th grade. Here, is this easier to read?" I slip it over to Michelle, poking her head with my pencil until she looks up.

"... Yeah, this makes perfect sense now. She's manipulating him into killing the King, right?"

"You got it!" Erica celebrates, throwing her hands in the air.

"Man, do I feel stupid..." Michelle chuckles, looking at me. "Thank you so much, Beau."

"Don't worry about it, I'm just happy to help. I uh... I think I have a copy of the modern English version, but I might have given it to my cousin... I'm not one for Shakespeare."

"Well, maybe we can suffer through this together." She muses, leaning on her hand. I swallow and scoot away from her, watching as Erica reaches over and swats the back of her head. She and I exchange a nod before shifting the subject over to the flower drawn on Erica's hand.

I get through the rest of the morning without incident, save colliding with a handful of lockers mid-way down the hall. With Jesse chattering my ear off from the right, I find the trays and start toward the small à la carte available to the students. That's when I notice Edythe, standing by the start of the line with her hands in her pockets, her brilliantly copper curls braided down her back. She glances over at me and stands straight, blocking my way to the food with her body — which is right at my chest. I shrink down.

"H-hey, partner. Can I help you?" She doesn't have the same Ready-To-Slaughter aura that radiated off her yesterday; her eyes are on the floor, and her bottom lip is tucked under her front teeth. She glances around, and then looks at me, like she's considering something. My brain buzzes, making me whine aloud. "Look, I don't... I don't want to be rude, but I'm starving. Can this wait for class?

"I uh... yes. Yes, it can! I'll see you then, uh... bye." She walks to her table, tucking her entire body into a slightly oversized hoodie, putting on her headphones before hiding inside the hood.  
I can relate to her on a spiritual level in this moment.

The other Cullens look from him to me, their eyebrows raised in unison. Then the pixie one, Alex, gets this excited look on his face, a cartoon-ish contortion that only emphasizes the youthfulness of him. He scoots down to Edythe and tries to get her attention, earning a head shake from Roland Hale — and a photo-op from Jasmine. She's definitely the fun twin...

"Did you bring your notes, Beau? Jesse's confused about the whole Macbeth thing, too." Michelle says when I sit down. I swallow a good bit of my drink and pull out my phone, introducing a group of Juniors to my life's blood — SparkNotes, the only reason I pass any English class.

Edythe is silent during the Biology lecture, but it is plain to me she isn't paying the slightest bit of attention. A wire sticks out from the bottom of her curls, tucking into her hoodie and out the bottom, ending in her pocket. Her phone is out of sight, out of mind, and Dr. Molina doesn't suspect a thing.  
We both continue our respective scribbling, and while mine takes the shape of the cell on the board, I chance a peek over at what Edythe is working on. Then I double take.

Those aren't scribbles... she's writing music. The entire notebook is sheet paper. Treble clef, b flat, 4/4 time. The most basic of composition settings with some of the trickiest formations I've ever seen. I don't see a title, or even an instrument for the piece in the corner — hopefully it's meant for a stringed instrument, or the piano. A wind or brass player is going to fall on their face before they get to the first coda.

I don't notice my lean until the stool kicks out from under me, making me crash into Edythe's shoulder and head straight to the ground. If it weren't for a pair of cold, powerful arms around my shoulder, I'd have a broken nose, and a concussion.

" _Beau_..?" Edythe's voice, so light and lilting, has an incredulous tone to it. I push back, looking around at the crowd of eyes that are locked in on us, and hide inside my shirt. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I uh... thank you, Edythe." I feel Dr. Molina's hand on my shoulder, her face wrinkled with concern. "I'm alright, ma'am. I promise. Edythe, er... caught me."

"I noticed. Are you feeling alright, Beaumont?"

"Who, _me_? Yeah, perfectly fine. Totally. Just got lucky, you know. You should check on her," I point to Edythe, who is much smaller than me, "She was the landing pad." Edythe snorts and giggles, her nose wrinkling and her eyes shutting, tight. A small blush reaches her cheeks, and my own heat up. I wait until Dr. Molina takes her leave and lean over, writing quickly on the corner of my page.

"Sorry about using you as a landing cushion, partner. But if it makes up for it, you do a damn good job of it." I look at her, silently guffawing at my own quip. But Edythe, she just looks at me, her lips in a straight line, clearly fighting something down. And with handwriting much cleaner than a teenage girl should boast, she writes back:

"It's alright, Beau. I'm just glad you didn't hit the ground. A bloody nose wouldn't suit you." I nod in agreement, not realizing why I have a strange feeling in the back of my skull until I'm half-way down the hallway toward gym class.

We never introduced ourselves. Not really. How did she know I go by Beau?

I'm back home before I know it, still wondering how to make my fall up to Edythe. Though, now that I've thought, I can't help but wonder how she could catch me without falling, too. She's weirdly strong for someone so small...

To my surprise, there's a car beside me, with Michelle's face pushed against the glass. I hop out of the truck, "slamming" my fist into the glass and making her "faint" dramatically into Erica's lap. We laugh, and Erica rolls the passenger window down.

"To what do I owe this stalking, girls?"

"Stalking is such a strong word... but if you must know," Michelle says, sitting up in her seat, "we wanted to invite you to a new café in town. An open mic place, Jesse and Angel are dragging us to it."

At the mention of Angel, Erica grows a goofy grin, her eyes spacing out fondly. "I suppose I can fifth-wheel this adventure. Let me just check with the chief." I text Charlie, even with a joke about being kidnapped by two teenage girls and how I'll miss her jokes. I shake my head at her response of sobbing emojis and a heart. The best part about Charlie, I think, is her instant understanding of my stupid jokes.

I'm vibing along to Soundgarden as our orders reach the table, though I feel a slight level of betrayal as no one but me gets a cold coffee drink. I notice, through the curtains of my curls and the corners of my eyes, how Angel and Erica give each other soft, loving glances when they think neither is paying attention. This tiny seed of romance makes my heart swell, and flashes thoughts of a certain red head through my mind.

Then Jesse taps my shoulder, and my daydream shatters.

"You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

"If I say 'no', do you promise not to hate me?"

"Good lord, you need Adderall." He isn't wrong. "I asked about your school life in Arizona. Your friends, your groups, your hobbies. Shit like that. Are we up to snuff with city kids?" I tap along my cup for a moment before setting it down.

"To be honest, I didn't have many friends back home." I say, closing my eyes, embarrassment rushing back to me. "I got held back in middle school after failing a ton of my classes. My old man got harsh, being a teacher himself, and made sure I wouldn't fail him again. Because I buckled in, and was older than the other kids, I uh... I didn't make many friends. Been a lone wolf ever since." I shrug it off, not really liking all the eyes on me. "What?"

"You got held back? Does that mean you're older than us?" Jesse asks, the mental calculation clear behind his eyes. "Dude, you're an adult?"

"Legally, yeah. I turned 18 last September. It's kinda why I," my hands curl and I gesture toward my chest, "keep to myself. Even the teachers give me a snotty look when they realize they're dealing with a, uh... well, a moron on paper."

"You're not a moron," Erica says. "My cousin got held back twice, now she's a professor. Shit happens, right?" Everyone nods in agreement, Michelle's face in a strangely wide smile that makes me shudder.

I don't like that one bit.

"If it's okay for me to ask," she continues, "what do you do during class? I know you're a little ahead of us, content-wise, but you're always in a notebook, pencil going a mile a minute."

"I draw. It's just something I've always done. I have uh..." I pull one of my sketchbooks from my bag and set it on the table, "I've got, like, ten of these that are mostly rejects or half-done projects." I flip around, showing them various sketches, sketches in progress, and — to my chagrin — the one drawing of Edythe Cullen, which Michelle slams her hand down on.

"Look, it's the wicked bitch of Forks!" She cackles, earning a weak laugh from Jesse and a collection of rolled eyes from the others. "I mean, seriously, she acts like such an ass. She even stopped Beau in the lunch line."

"Oh yeah, I remember that." Jesse looks at me. "What did she want?"

"Simply said she'd see me in class. During which she helped prevent me from, you know, seriously injuring myself while I was eyeballing her notebook."

"Eyeballing?" Michelle says with a raised, maybe twitching eyebrow. "What could be so interesting about Edythe Cullen?"

"Well, she's a composer. I recognized the paper and format instantly. My step-mom got me into music pretty early in life, and while I couldn't write it to save my life, reading it isn't so bad after a while. And her composition was beautiful, from what I know of it."

"That would explain why her headphones are always in," Jesse says, tilting his head. "Maybe she's working on something big, a multi-part orchestral production or something. Her brother-in-law does work at the theater in Port Angeles."

"Ezra Cullen, really?" Erica lets out a small laugh. "I figured he was the Stay-At-Home-Dad type. I mean, his wife is beautiful, and makes bank. Why on Earth he'd want to work is beyond me."

"Hold up. I noticed something." I set my mug down and rake my eyes over the entire table. "So from what I've gathered, you all like the Cullens, but can't stand the one of them that isn't as extroverted and giddy as the rest. Someone who, on the surface, is actually a lot like me. But you don't like her? Because she's a freak? That isn't fair at all, people."

They all go rather pale, guilt on most of their faces. Angel, however, looks right at me and winks. Looks like I'm not the first one to point this hypocrisy out. More power to you, Heracles.

"Look, can we talk about something else, please?" Michelle says, trying to lighten the mood with her award-winning smile. The distraction is a good thing. And just like that, whatever connection I had to them starts to thin down, the red string connecting us all fraying in the middle.

I'm home and in my pj shorts before the door clicks shut, shirts and other clothing piled in the far corner of the room where they'll stew until Charlie starts wacking the foot of my bed with her nightstick to get me to wash them.

As you do.

I settle in the armchair by the bedroom window and open my laptop, a little red dot on the email symbol. And instantly, the Fates swoop in for my life string.

"Beau,  
Let me know when you get this! I lost my phone cord, but not the laptop cord. How's the second day gone? Still raining up there? I miss you already, champ. Oh, and let me know if you remember where my pink button-up is. I'll be leaving for Florida soon and I can't find it. Philippa says she loves you!"  
Love Dad."

I relax a bit at his calm tone and read the second one, sent eight hours later. I would have been in class when this came in. Dude...

"Beau,  
Why haven't you emailed me yet? Are you waiting for something?  
Dad"

The nerves started creeping back in. No "love", super short. Not a good sign.

"Beaumont Geoffrey Higginbotham,  
If I haven't heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today I'm calling Charlie."

And the red flags fly high. He never uses my full name, and only removes the Swan when he's getting angry. I panic, my heart beating so hard I hear it as I type a reply to him.

"Pops,  
I'm sorry for not getting to you sooner, but between school, homework, and friends, I've not had the time to just get on my computer. And yes, it's raining. So weird, but I'm liking it.  
As for that ugly ass shirt, call your dry cleaner. I told you about it before I left. Oh, and Mom got me a truck! Yeah, it's old and kinda rusty, but I love it. I named it The Thing. Pretty cool, ain't it.  
The missing is mutual, but don't worry about me. I've got my sketchbooks, my bass, and Ma. I'll sync my phone to the email app so I can get to you sooner, but please remember that I'm not glued to it. I promise, I'll reply to you. Scout's Honor.  
Love you, Pops.  
Beau."

With that taken care of, I glance over at the reading list and casually crumple it up and toss it toward the bed. I would rather not reread _Wuthering Heights_ , or anything else on that list. Hell, I'd rather just take them all and throw them into the woods, make them the trees they were always meant to be. I lean back, taking the bass Philippa gave me from the stand, my fingertips running along the fretboard and the strings, my hands going to tune it without thinking.

I can hear Rene snapping at me whenever I'd play the old one from the attic. How music is a waste of time, waste of effort. How you never get anywhere in life on stupid drawings and noise. Never music. Never... just _noise_. I hum to myself and start strumming, foot tapping 4/4 as Edythe's composition appears in my mind – a bass line, warm and soft. Like heartbeat. The sound vibrates through the air, in my head.

By the time it registers that Charlie's gotten home, it's almost like the strings are moving on their own.

"Beau, you home?"

"Yeah!" I rush from the chair, setting the guitar down and racing down the steps in a couple bounds. She's at the door, eyes huge, with a take-out bag in her hand. "Oh, food! Whatcha get me, huh?"

"No love for his mother, harsh." She sets her gun on the entry table, tossing her keys a little bowl – aw, it's the one I made in 4th grade! "I tried that little Italian place down by main street."

"Everything is by main street."

"Alfredo, no chicken for you. Chicken parmesan for me." Charlie wiggles her shoulders and goes to the kitchen, a small dance in her step. I, meanwhile, am cringing at the very smell of her carrion.

"How can you even eat that, Ma?"

"Not all of us are allergic to meat, Bo boy."

I follow in suit, getting plates and forks as she gets drinks ready. I can't stop thinking about her gun, how carefully she sat it in a small, velvet holding case. I don't think she's every fired it, I _know_ Rene would have gossiped if so. And I've never seen a Glock with a butt made out of horn and a mirror-like barrel. That's not even mentioning how she has it on her literally everywhere but at home. I pull my hair into a rough bun and shake my head. Probably better not to think on that too much...

I check the bag and snatch a warm roll from the container, stuffing it in my jaw before Charlie can even react. She bats at me with a hand towel and we got to the table with smiles on our faces. We eat in comfortable silence, content with our food and company. It's nice, seeing someone else at the table. It's new, but definitely nice.

Then Charlie clears her throat.

"Is it safe to assume school is going well? I mean, going out with a group of people on the second day is pretty impressive, especially for a Swan child."

"Yeah, I uh... I've got some friends now. Jesse, Angel, Erica, Michelle. I'm still learning about them, but I might have made them uncomfortable." I take a slow drink, eyes meeting my fork.

"What do you mean, Beau?"

"They know my age now, which is always a hard thing to admit..." Charlie leans over and lays her hand on mine, squeezing lightly.

"You can't help the past. If they judge you for that, then say 'fuck it' and leave 'em." I snort, choking on laughter until she leans back with pride.

"There's also the matter of Edythe Cullen that got things a little awkward. They're really hypocritical when it comes to her, so unfair."

"Edythe? That sweet girl?" Charlie's eyes flash with a high-octane rush, nostrils flaring. "What, they never met someone with anxiety before?"

"It isn't just that, Ma. They say she's arrogant, cold. Unlikeable. That she thinks she's better than everyone else. But they _adore_ the rest of the family. I don't really get it." Charlie huffs, tenting her hands on the table and meeting my eyes dead-on.

"The kids in this town... Edythe's parents died not long after she was adopted, and Clarice took her in. Apparently, she lost her birth parents at a young age. That kind of shit messes with a kid, Beau. Honestly, if Clarice is aware of _any_ of this, we're damn lucky she doesn't pack the whole coven up and flip us off as they drive away. I've had no problems from the Cullen kids, least of all Edythe, and that's more than I can say from the Newton's gang of brats! People are just... they're _assholes_. Complete assholes with nothing better to do. That behavior needs to be nipped in the bud."

I blink, awestruck that my mother said more now than I've heard in the last 18 years in _one breath_. I reach over and lower the knife she was using to point and gesture to the table, patting her hand lightly.

"If it makes you feel better, Ma, I honestly like Edythe. She is off-putting, but nice. She's smart, she likes music, she's really pretty..." I trail off, shoveling a bite into my mouth before my mother can register what I said. "I'm thinking of playing at the café I went to with the others today. What do you think?"

"I think you have no filter between your brain and your mouth, Beaumont Swan. I really do."

We spend the evening cleaning up the house, catting about everything and nothing, and she even paused long enough to help me with my Trig homework before tucking herself into bed. I stay downstairs, a sketchbook on my lap, and a familiar face coming into fruition on the page. Her soft, sunken eyes. The strange hardness to her thin lips. The fire behind her eyes, even in pencil. I should... I should go to bed.

Come Saturday, Edythe and I have started chatting during downtime. She waits for me at the door before class, asks to compare notes during class to be sure she hasn't missed anything – which is cute, since I can see where she erased the old notes on the page – and we part ways without a speck of tension between us.

I'm plucking on my bass' strings when a soft rapping comes at the front door. I answer it, not even considering my state of dress or how my hair looks. In the back of my mind it's Charlie, forgetting something before she left for work, ready to scold me for not doing my homework.

Instead it's Edythe Cullen, her ocean blue hoodie jacket, and her beautiful eyes the size of the moon. She opens her mouth, eyes flicking to my torso before locking in the air beside me. I drum my fingers along the fret board of my guitar, feeling the chill of the winter breeze whip through my homemade tank-top. After a few seconds of awkward staring, she breaks the silence.

" _Beau..._ is uh... Chief Swan still home?"

"Nah, sorry. She left a while ago, probably at the station by now. You can come in if you need to call her. Too cold to stand there." I back away from the door, turning my back and flopping on the nearby loveseat, legs hanging over the arms. "Mi casa es su casa."

"Oh, okay!" The door closes, and she steps in with an audible shiver. "Do you have a landline? I didn't even think to pick up my cell before leaving." I pull myself up, a hand gesturing to the swivel hinge door to the kitchen. "In here? Th- Thank you _Beau_ , I'll let you get back to..." Edythe looks around, spotting an off TV, an underdressed me, and the bass on my lap, "...practicing." She deduces before slipping through the door.

My fingers dance on the guitar, soft cords reaching my ears, the way she says my name echoing inside my skull. I've heard it hundreds of times. "Beau", "Beaumont", even "Monty". But not one of them in my 18 years on this Earth match up to how she says it. Like it's a new flavor, like she wants it to last. Tasting it, savoring it. I know I'm reading too much into it. I just have a weird name, nothing more to it. Even so... I put my bass down and go to the door, pressing my ear to the old wood. Her voice is muffled, but clear.

"Charlie, it's me ... yes, I'm at your house, I'll leave soon, I promise. No, no! Beau's not in danger. I'd never do that to you." Her voice is almost impossibly soft, lilting like spoken cursive. I pull my hair from my ears and press closer, holding the underside with my toes so I don't fall through. Danger? What on Earth is going on around here? "Clari-Clarice and I... yeah, exactly. She thinks it best you blame an animal. Bears, maybe? Or cougars. Uh huh... Yes. Right. Next shipment is coming soon, Jaz will call you. See you around."

Before she can make it to the kitchen door, I'm nested in the love seat, strumming cords absently in an attempt to look like I was here the entire time. Through my hair, I see her glance down at me, a suspicious gleam in her eyes. There's no way she could have heard me stop playing – no normal person could. Then the buzzing cracks through my skull, and my nails rake on the strings, water leaking from the corners of my eyes.

"Thanks again, Beau. I'll see you on Monday?"

"Yeah, totally! You can hang out, though, if you want." I shrug, waving to the empty couch and recliner still in the cozy room. "It's not like we've got anything else to do, right?" Her eyes widen, hand rising to her lips as a light blush dusts over her cheeks. Almost rosy.

"I... I'd love to, but Ezra is expecting me home soon. I'm behind in my Calculus class."

"Oh, yikes. I get it, though, math is like a foreign language. Drive home safely, Edythe." She gives me her soft, crooked smile and leaves the house. I don't hear a vehicle start, or leave. I get up and go to the front window, peaking through the blinds. There's nothing and no one, and the remains of a sudden burst of wind blowing some of the bushes to the north.

Monday brings an English test on _Wuthering Heights_ and the end of my patience. I didn't pass, I just know it. Or, at the best, I got a C. Which I can live with, considering it gets me a diploma regardless. Walking outside amid a flurry of other students, who are also bitching about the test, a swirl of white falls like angelic dandruff from the sky. I skid to a stop, looking straight up, hearing the crunch of the others as their feet hit the ground. My neck cracks with the speed of my head swiveling. I know I look like a moron, but there are more pressing matters at hand!

I've never seen snow before.

"Beau, you doing alright up there?" Erica pokes my arm gently, Jesse jumping into the snow and kicking it with a laugh.

"It's so cold... I don't..." I stick my tongue out and let a flake land. It's just crystallized water, but to me, it's a scene straight from a fairy tale. I crouch and carefully cup a handful from the ground, the chill leaking through my fuzzy, thin gloves. I mush it into a ball, standing and looking it over. "This is incredible!" I decide, looking around and noticing a pair of tall, blonde heads in the distance.

"Is this your first time seeing snow, Beau? Aww!" Erica giggles, looking around like the vast white pillow around us is nothing. "Arizona, meet the White Death. White Death, don't kill Arizona." I throw the snowball into the air and let it hit the top of my head, laughing louder than I think anyone's ever heard my voice. Both Erica and Michelle stop in their tracks, watching me play like an excited puppy.

Until...

 _SPLAT!_ Right on the side of Michelle's head, snow drips onto her shoulder and sticks in her hair. My neck snaps in the direction of the assailant, only to see Emmaline Cullen in all her glory, a proud smirk on her face, with Jasmine Hale standing emotionless and still beside her, honey blonde hair hiding most of her face. Emma's hand holds another wad of snow, and I glance over at Erica and Michelle.

"War is a no-no for Beau Swan. See ya at lunch!" I slowly back away from No Man's Land, hands up in surrender. Emma looks me over, and nods, accepting my cowardice as she and Jasmine start arming themselves for all-out war on the student body. Through the morning of snowballs, people – myself included – falling on their asses, and the occasional person eating snow off cars, there's one thing that sticks in my mind.

And that's the fact that neither girl was wearing gloves.

Jesse and use each other as human shields on our way to lunch, though it is pretty one-sided from where I'm standing. We laugh and trudge through the six-inch blanket of snow, preferring it to the clear-ice on the concrete walkway. I notice, as we enter the cafeteria, the same chaos makers as earlier out the far window. Emma sticks out right away, being the tallest, pelting most every student out there before they can one up her. Though Jasmine is nowhere to be seen. And neither is Edythe...

"Hey," Jesse nudges my shoulder. "You okay? You keep spacing."

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I was just watching those morons over there." He looks over my shoulder to the fight outside the cafeteria. His face shows clear respect for the "blood bath".

"Emma cannot be defeated, it seems."

"Yeah, really." I grab a bottle of water and a salad, mentally groaning at the lack of vegetarian options at this school. We congregate at the table, inching away from the soaking wet pair that is Michelle and Erica. A frigid blast lets us know when someone else enters for lunch, and a roaring laugh clues me in right away who came in.

I turn my head slightly, trying not to be noticed. None of them are paying attention to the crowd of people. Emma and Jasmine shake snow from their jackets and hair, Alex riding on Emma's shoulders in apparent triumph. Roland laughs at them rather than with them, his pastel clothes and perfectly styled hair untouched by the snow. They're enjoying the weather, same as everyone else. But I can't help but have an uneasy feeling in the bottom of my stomach. Like something is off. And then it hits me.

And their skin is... _wrong_. Pink, almost healthy looking. I watch, waiting for the hue to vanish, hoping it's just from the cold outside. It stays. I don't... I don't think they're supposed to have this color to them. It isn't good, isn't at all good. Alex sits beside Edythe, who I assume was there the entire time, her notebook in her hands and headphones already on.

A tap on my shoulder brings me back to reality.

"Beau, what are you looking at?" Jesse follows my stare, my eyes widening and hands gripping the plastic fork in my hand until it snaps. I'm frozen, watching Edythe's eyes flash in our direction, appearing to meet mine, right as Jesse finishes his question. Her cheeks flush brighter, her teeth, though hidden from view, worry her bottom lip. Her hand raises and she waves. I wave back, feeling my lips curl up.

"Well that's unexpected," Jesse remarks, slapping my shoulder playfully. "Beau's melting the Ice Queen!"

"Don't be so loud." I snap, turning back to the table. "She's nice, if you actually give her a chance. Quiet, but not rude or anything."

"It's just weird, man. Edythe doesn't like anybody. Well, she doesn't really _acknowledge_ anybody who isn't in her group. She's still staring, just so you know."

"Stop looking at her..." I glare at him, hissing between my teeth. He snickers but looked away, a playful tilt to his head. I start to think of all the ways I can break his nose if he decides to bring attention back to me again, but after a couple seconds of breathing, I'm back to listening to Michelle's suggestion of a massive snowball battle after school, with everyone enthusiastically agreeing to it, including Jesse. Though, I think he'd follow her off the edge of the La Push cliffs if she asked nicely.

...okay, that was a little melodramatic, but my point stands. I silently decide to hide in the gym after class, just to be safe.

I stay quiet over the rest of the period, not able to stop myself from glancing over at Edythe on occasion. Sometimes she's looking too, and she smiles. Other times she's lost in her music, lost in the composition – and those times, I smile. I swear, that girl just can't be real... she's too perfect. I look down at my empty tray and squeeze my eyes shut. I am too old to be getting crushes on girls I barely know.

Since Michelle is a prime target for snowball snipers, Angel and I walk a few feet ahead of her, laughing every time we hear a wet smack behind us. I hear the patter of rain on the roof once I entered the building, followed by a collective groan. Well, at least the rain means the snow might melt. I'd rather not risk breaking my back walking back to The Thing.

I'm a little surprised to see my desk empty when we enter the room. Dr. Molina is passing out microscopes and boxes of slides, speaking loudly about them being onion root cells for us to identify the stages of. I part with Michelle and Angel, settling at my aisle seat with an open notebook. I take out my sketch pad and make little circles, turning to my side when I hear the stool scratch beside me.

" _Hello_ ," comes Edythe's musical, tinkling voice. I feel the smile take over my face, feel my heart kick up a few beats. Her body language is a little contradictory – sitting as far from me as she can while still facing me with her upper body. And even with her copper curls soaked with water, she looks absolutely flawless, the new color to her cheeks just adding to the angelic air around her. But her eyes... those beautiful eyes are focused, locked in on my every move.

"Hey, Edythe." I wave with my pencil, sitting up a little straighter. "I guess the rain snuck up on you, too?"

"It did, yeah. How uh... ho-how was your weekend?"

"I pretty well did exactly what you saw on Saturday. Lounged around, played my bass, and avoided studying for my English exam until the absolute last second. You know, like a moron."

"Yeah, a lot of students suffered through that one. It was _Wuthering Heights,_ right?" She glances to the side, as if pulling the memory from deep inside her skull. "'He shall never know I love him: and that, not because he's handsome, but because he's more myself than I am.' I loved that book when I was younger." She crosses her arms, looking a little proud that she was able to recite what I can only assume is a quote direct from the novel.

"Well, I suppose someone has to like it. I had a hard time getting past the first couple chapters. Did your class go over it too? I haven't seen you in the other Junior classes." Edythe blinks, looking at me with a flat affect.

"Well, it'd be quite strange for a Senior to be in Junior classes, don't you think?"

"Oh! I-I'm sorry, I didn't..." I stammer, hands making wild gestures at my chest. "I just thought. You know, same Bio class and all... that we were the same grade."

"I'm just thankful you didn't mistake me for a Freshman." She giggles, holding her hand to her lips. I see them move, see a flash of pearly white, but hear nothing. "I understand the assumption. My nephews and niece are all Juniors. No, I'm the soul Senior." I nod, doing some mental calculations. So she's, at the youngest, 17... and the others are around 16? Maybe? That's almost nothing. But they don't at all look those ages.

"All right!" Dr. Molina's booming voice makes us both snap to the front of the room. "Onion root tip cells! Your job is to identify what phase of mitosis the cells are in. The first pair to guess them all correctly will win The Golden Onion." She pulls a spray-painted onion from the box on his desk, holding it like an Olympic medal.

"Golden onion rings." I state, looking at Edythe. She closes her eyes and shakes her head, hand at her forehead. But she's smiling! That's a win in my book.

"Ladies first, partner?" I push the microscope her way with a wink. She looks at me, her crooked smile almost cheeky as she takes the instrument from my hands. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing." She switches the lenses around until she gets the magnification just right and leans back. "It's prophase. Can I get a second opinion, _Doctor_ Swan?" She chuckles softly, sliding the instrument over to me.

"But of course, Doctor Cullen." A snort catches in my nose and I shake my head. "That doesn't have the same affect." I reach for the microscope, my fingers barely tracing over her knuckles. The shock of ice-cold that rips through my hand tears a gasp from my lungs. The snow's been gone for almost an hour, she's been inside this whole time. I take the microscope and only half-look into it, spotting her hiding her hands inside her hoodie. Definitely something weird going on. Definitely.

"Prophase," I agree, filling in the sheet. I switch the slides and check it, needing to up the zoom. "Pretty sure this one's anaphase. Second opinion?"

"Gotta use teamwork," she says with a small smirk. It becomes a back-and-forth until we're completely done, the slides in proper order and the paper completely filled with the combination of my chicken scratch and her near calligraphy. But I can't help but notice how she keeps moving her hand from mine, avoiding contact all together. I guess I'm not the only one who noticed the temperature difference after all.

Dr. Molina comes and collects our paper quickly, congratulating us on being the first done – and based on my glance around the room, it'll be a while before the experiment ends – giving us the a-okay to do whatever until everyone catches up. I glance at Edythe, her composition notebook already out, eyes locked in on the lines and the movement of her pen. So careful, precise, delicate. I content myself my iPod and sketchbook until my gut twists. I double-take, a lump forming in my throat.

"Hey, did you get contacts?"

"What?" She faces me, brows furrowed.

"Contacts. Your eyes, they're completely different. Almost..."

"O-oh! Uh, well," she shrugs, shifting so her face isn't square with mine. "It's uh... the fluorescent lights. I-I'm allergic to contacts." Her face scrunches, the statement ending like a question. But I'm not stupid. Lighting doesn't make black turn red. She is most definitely lying, but judging by her body language – hard fists, stiff posture – it wouldn't be right of me to dig further. But I can't deny it anymore. There is something terribly wrong with Edythe Cullen. Something she isn't at all good at hiding.

And damnit, I want to figure it out.

"It's too bad about the snow, don't you think? I know Emmaline was planning a full-scale ambush of the other students after class." Edythe says nonchalantly, her tone light but wavering. It's annoying, wanting to talk to someone, but wanting to avoid small talk as much as possible. I swallow and shrug, biting the bullet.

"I guess so. I mean, I won't lose any sleep over it, but it would have been nice to see it some more before it up and vanished on us." I continue my drawing, biting my lip and squinting at the smudging the side of my hand created. Hate it when that happens.

"Forks must be a tough place for you to live, _Arizona_." Her use of the girls' stupid nickname pulls the hair on my neck up. Don't flinch. Keep it rolling. Because the more she says, the more you learn. The more she reveals, the stranger she gets. But the fact she has _never_ been around when someone called me that is... chilling.

"It's new, but I'm adjusting. More hoodies, more flannels, less tank tops. Difficult, but not impossible, you know?"

"Why did you come here, then?" Her voice is even, but not without an undertone of annoyance, though I don't think at me. It's like she feels she should already know the answer. For a split second, the buzzing rips through my skull. I squeeze my eyes shut until it vanishes.

"That's a little personal, don't you think?" I raise an eyebrow. "Besides, I haven't even told my other friends about it."

"Maybe talking to me will help you talk to them? C'mon, try me. I can keep up," she presses, leaning a little closer. I pause for a moment, and make the mistake of meeting his gaze. Her eyes, bright and strange, pull at my heartstrings. I can't stop myself.

"My father got remarried last September. I like her. She doesn't mind my more... _feminine_ hobbies like Pops does, but she travels a lot — Minor League Ballplayer. Pops didn't enjoy staying behind with me, so I came up here to live with my mom. That's about it, really." She blinks a moment, taking it all in. Then she smiles, leaning her head into her palm.

"That doesn't sound so complex," she shrugs. "Though it seems unfair to me that you'd come up here instead of him choosing to stay with you. That's an enormous sacrifice for a kid, Beau. Especially since it makes you unhappy."

"Well, life isn't exactly fair. And he couldn't stop me if he wanted to. I'm 18, I could have run off to Ohio and poor old Rene wouldn't be able to drag me back."

"Ezra's from Ohio. I don't think you'd like it there. Nothing but corn and lima beans." Her eyes shift from frustrated to appraising. Like I'm a museum display. "You put on a good show," she drawls. "But I'd be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyone see." I frown, looking away. She's just like dad, leaving me feeling as naked and vulnerable as an infant. "Am I wrong?"

I try to ignore her, adding details to the forming drawing – a bat.

"I didn't think so," she says softly.

"You're a very curious person, you know that?" I rake my hair from my eyes, giving her a quick look over. "You now know more about me than I about you. You gonna return that favor, Edythe?"

"That's an excellent question," she says so quietly that I figure she is talking to herself. However, after a few seconds of silence, I realize that's the only answer I'm going to get.

I let out a huff and go back to my drawing, shaking my head.

"Am I annoying you?" she asks meekly.

"It isn't you. You read me like dad used to, his uh... _little open book._ " I mimic his tone with a roll of my eyes. "It's uncomfortable, knowing someone can see through me like glass." Her face falls, eyes drooping.

"On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." Despite the past five minutes entailing me spilling about why I came to Forks, and her accurately guessing just how much being here is hard on me, she sounds sincere.

"Really now?" I shake my head, laying my chin in my hands. "I find that hard to believe, but if you like the challenge, I'm glad to provide." She grins, briefly exposing her garishly white teeth. My stomach churns at the slight red tint on her canines. Before I can look any closer, her mouth is closed.

"Challenge accepted, then."

Dr. Molina calls the class to order then and I turn to listen, forcing Edythe completely out of my mind. I can't believe I told all that to her, I haven't even admitted to my friends exactly why I moved to Forks. But she seemed so engrossed, like everything that came from my mouth was precious. She hasn't even moved back to the wall. I could reach out and touch her, if I wanted. Wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her close. Strangely... refreshing, this growth.

When the bell finally rings, Edythe stands and smiles down at me. "See you tomorrow, Beau!"

"See you, Edythe."

She skips from the room, much slower than last week, smiling over her shoulder at me before vanishing from sight. Michelle approaches with her head low. I have a feeling things didn't go easy for her team.

"That was awful! They all looked exactly the same. You're lucky you had Cullen for a partner." She gripes as we leave the room. I glower down at her, wondering why she simply assumed I'd use Edythe's brain. What, I don't have one of my own? Fucking _rude_.

"I didn't have _any_ trouble with it," I say, lowering my voice beyond what is a typical conversation tone just to hammer the point in. With a slight wince, Michelle's eyes flick around as he struggles to change the subject. She falls on Edythe.

"W-well... uh... Cullen seemed friendly enough today," Her voice is strained. Doesn't she have other things on her mind besides Edythe? "Something must have been bothering her last week." I tune Michelle out as we get into the routine of putting on our raincoats and heading out to the gym.

Michelle is on my volleyball team that day, helping me cover the one corner the other side seems hellbent on hitting. Overall, the game is typical, with only minor bruising on each of us when we finally get into it. But it passes in a muddy blur, I'm in The Thing in a blink.

I turn the heat on low and pull my hood down, letting my hair out from its gym class ponytail to dry a bit. When I look out to make sure it was clear, I notice a few cars down from me that Edythe Cullen is leaning against his Volvo, staring at me — well, at the truck from that distance. I shake my head and shift it in reverse, letting a rust bucket Corolla pass behind me.

I can feel her eyes on me as I leave the parking lot, thankful for the change in behavior, but still curious on the small things. Her eyes. Her _skin_. Things that just... aren't adding up for me. Not in ways that make sense. She can't be what I think she is, can she?


	4. Adrenaline Rush

I hate that I'm still awake. I hate it. I do. Because my alarm just went off, and I've been awake since this same exact time yesterday. And here I am, wearing the exact same outfit as yesterday, wondering if Charlie made enough coffee for the both of us. I glance outside, at the fog-free air and the blanket of fresh snow on the ground. It's beautiful, simply breathtaking.

Until you notice the transparent daggers on the trees that say "Hey, you're going to be driving at -2 miles-per-hour today!". I consider crawling into bed and giving the school the middle-finger salute. Instead, I go take a cold shower to wake myself up.

By the time I'm tearing a comb through my hair, Charlie's taken off – something about a bear attack? – shouting a goodbye up the stairs after her. I already know she's neglected breakfast this morning, but that's alright in my book. I grab a quick oatmeal bar and canned coffee, ready to slide my happy little ass to school. And then I remember her.

Edythe Cullen. What is it about her that gets to me? We barely speak, and then I'm spilling my guts to her. Like we've known each other for ages. And those eyes... that skin... there's something that's not quite right, but I can't bring myself to stay away. I want to know more, I _need_ to know more. It's like her every breath pulls me in to her. I swallow the lump in my throat and inch down the driveway.

I hyper-focus on the road, driving slowly even without any traffic within striking distance. I play music, I think about assignments, I yawn, I do whatever it takes to not get distracted. I try not to think about Edythe's handwriting, about way she bites her lip... I shake my head. Something feels wrong about this. I've never fixated on a girl like this before. Never. I don't even remember the last time I had a crush. Maybe it's just part of being the new student. Mysterious new student, mysterious local. It's like a bad Lifetime movie. At least I got a good handful of awesome friends thanks to being new.

To my surprise, The Thing travels smoothly on the ice. I mean, I still drive like an old man simply because this thing is completely solid, and the last thing I want to do is carve a path of destruction down main street. Yet. I slide from the truck and, to my surprise, notice a soft silver gleam near my feet. Chains, lovingly wrapped around the tires. _Charlie_. Had to be her. I wipe a happy tear from the corner of my eyes, closing the door and taking my phone out to send her a thanks over the phone.

I hear something strange. A high-pitched screech, every second making it painfully loud. I look toward the sound, rounding my truck, and realize that I'm about to die.

I see several things simultaneously, adrenaline making everything clear and focused. Edythe Cullen standing four cars down from me, staring on in horror, her face standing out from a sea of fear. But of more immediate importance is a dark blue van, tires locked against the brakes, spinning across the parking lot, barreling at my truck.

With me standing in between. My breath vacates my lungs. I close my eyes and wait.

Just before I hear the crunch of the van breaking my spine in two against the truck bed, something hits me hard, and not from the direction I expected. My head cracks against the blacktop, something solid and cold pinning me to the ground. I lay on the pavement, not really noticing anything other than the van still coming at me, having curled around the end of the Thing.

A low curse makes me realize someone else is here, and the voice is impossible not to recognize. Two bony white hands shoot out protectively in front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop not even a foot from my face. The hands fit perfectly into a massive dent in the side of the van, moving in an impossible blur. One gripping under the van, my body being dragged like a rag doll until my legs are right against the wheels of the car beside mine. A loud, metallic groaning pierces my ears and I can see the van settle into place, glass shattering onto the asphalt — exactly where, not even a second earlier, my legs had been.

It is silent for an eternal second, and then the screaming starts. I can hear multiple voices calling out my name, the driver's name, sending my eyes into a frenzy trying to find the specific people. Then right in my ear, Edythe Cullen's voice, soft and frantic, whispers.

"Beau, are you okay?"

"Y-you... you..." My voice is strained, my hands trembling as the rush of what just happened hits me like a block of cement. I go to sit up, breathing deeply as I push myself onto my hands, but I'm barely able to move. I notice Edythe, her body trapped against mine, comically cradling my torso like a panicked mother. Her grasp is like solid steel. And it's getting tighter. Her chest against mine, I can feel the beat of her heart. Slower than a person in deep sleep. Slower than possible to be alive.

Suddenly, things are starting to add up. Which is saying something; I've never been good at math. She caresses my cheek and lowers me to the ground.

"Easy there, you hit your head hard..."

"I ... o-ow!" I notice a sharp ache centered above my left ear, my eyes watering from the unusual sensation.

"That's what I thought." Her voice is sorrowful, not at all matching the slight smirk in her smile. I stare at her, amazed that she's even here at all. No one can move that quickly. No one can be that strong – not even her nephew's girlfriend, Emma, who is made of _beef._ I can't believe it... she realize is something extraordinary.

"How did you get over here so fast?" I ask, my voice wavering, excited. Her smile vanishes and she leans in, her voice level. Grave. _Threatening_. My heart races.

"I was standing right next to you the whole time, Beau."

I turn to sit up and this time she lets me, releasing her hold around my chest and sliding as far from me as she can. I watch her concerned face, worried eyes, still shaken from the entire experience. Her mood swing is just another push for me to keep egging her on. The crowd finds us then, people with tear-stained faces and blotchy eyes, shouting at each other and us. I glance around at the flurry of activity, my head starting to pound from the sudden barrage of sound. Their voices come in all at once.

"Don't move."

"Get Taylor out of the van!"

I try to stand, try to get away from the shouting and rushing, but Edythe's chilly hand pushes my shoulder down. I shiver violently, pulling away from her hand. But she's stubborn, pulling me closer to her. That's when I notice how shaky she is, her eyes wide with ... with _fear_? _This_ is what scares her? A crowd?... not that I can't relate.

"Just stay put for now... please."

"Edythe, you're cold." I say plainly, savoring the small chuckle under her breath. There is an edge to it, lacking the musical quality her voice normally holds. I don't like that sound. "You were over there, by your car." Her laughter stops, and we lock eyes, her face expressionless and hard. I raise a brow and mimic her crooked half-smirk from before.

"No, I wasn't."

"I saw you, Edythe. You can't dissuade me." Chaos surrounds us, adults starting to join the scene with their gruff but concerned voices. But I hold on to our argument, stubborn as my mother. I don't even care if she admits it at this point – I want her to realize I'm no fool.

"Beau, I was standing with you, I pulled you out of the way." Her eyes flash, almost rendering me mute. She wants me to back down, wants me to pretend I didn't realize her... mistake, I suppose. A charade that shattered the moment she saved me from that van. I lean in closer.

"No, you weren't."

The red of her eyes blaze. " _Please_ , Beau..."

"Please what?"

"Trust me," she begs, on her knees in front of me. The fiery passion in her eyes is overrun by a near childlike fear. The sound of sirens hits my ears. Damn, out of time.

"Only if you promise you'll explain everything to me later."

"Alright, fine," she snaps, her frustration at me finally coming through. I grin, though pain keeps shooting through me.

"Fine." I won.

It takes six EMTs and two teachers to move the van far enough away for the stretchers to fit. Edythe refuses, as do I. But then she mentions my head injury, the possible concussion. I glare at her when they put the neck brace on me, knowing my face is redder than her inhuman eyes at this point. Damn traitor. They load me in the back of the ambulance, the crowd making it feel like the entire school is watching me with somber, terrified looks on their faces.

Edythe gets to ride in the front, which is annoying. But to round out the trauma of the day, Charlie pushes her way through the crowd, recognizing me from a decent distance and running as fast as she can to the stretcher.

"Oh my God, Beau!"

"Ma, it's okay. I'm fine." She turns to the closest EMT for a second opinion, and I lose her voice after I finally get a good look at the damage done to the car beside the Thing. There is a deep dent in the bumper, a very distinct one that seems to resemble the width of Edythe's shoulders. She'd braced herself against the car, stopped the impact it would have, should have, had on both The Thing and myself. My brain whirrs through possibilities, each more improbably and childish as the next. But I laugh softly, making the EMT jump.

I spot her family, just beyond the crowd. Their faces range from simple disapproval to complete rage, with not a single drop of worry between them. Like they had just seen her do something idiotic. And if everything in my mind is adding up to a truth, they're all pretty well right. Especially Roland, who looks like he is about to explode.

Naturally, the ambulance gets a police escort to the county hospital. I try not to let my embarrassment become too apparent, but feel no shame in vocalizing my contempt when Edythe glides through the hospital doors under her own power. I feel like a flesh Muppet the whole time they unload me.

They put me in the Emergency Room, my bed separated from the many others with a pastel curtain. A nurse takes my vitals, starting with a blood pressure cuff on my bicep and a thermometer under my tongue. When no one looks, I tear the neck brace off and hide it under my bed, playing it cool as he interviews me on my typical vital levels. I'm about to ask him to close the curtain when a group of hospital personnel brings another stretcher in, parking it beside me.

It's the driver of the van, a girl I take Government class with, Taylor Crowley. She has bloodied bandages wrapped around her head, looking a hundred times worse than me. Just looking at her makes my stomach churn, and the scent of blood that reaches my nose makes me gag in the back of my throat.

"Hey, you okay?" Such a dumb fucking question. She's in the _hospital_ , Beaumont. I expect a groggy half-reply or nothing at all. Instead, I get wide, anxious eyes and a panicked voice.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, Beau!"

"Hey, don't worry about me. Barely even bruised. Wish I could say the same for you," the nurse comes to change her soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow cuts all over her forehead and cheek, blood trickling down her face. I have to turn away, pulling my shirt over my nose. I'd rather smell Old Spice and BO.

She's shaking her head, annoying the nurse who is simply trying to do his job. "Christ, I thought I was going to kill you! I was speeding, I hit the ice wrong... how the hell did you get out of the way so quickly? It was like you were there one second and gone the next." Oh... oh _no_. Uhhhh...

"It uh... It was Edythe. The Cullen girl, she uh... she pushed me out of the way."

"Seriously? She must move like lightning. I mean, I know I saw her beside you, but then," she points to the bandages on her head, " _boom_ , darkness. But... this is gonna sound so crazy..."

"What is it?"

"Well, I didn't, like, see her at first. Maybe it was the angle or whatever, but one second you were alone, and the next she was beside you." Taylor chuckles, "I think the pain meds are blurring my memory."

"Yeah, probably. She was with me the entire time, though. We were talking about music. She is kinda short next to me." Taylor nods, and I let out a breath. Well, at least I know someone else noticed, but I can't let her think something is going on. If I'm right, and I damn well know I am, then exposing Edythe would be the biggest mistake of my life.

And possibly the end of it. Kinda exciting.

A nurse takes me from Taylor then, for x-rays on my head. I keep telling them I'm okay, there isn't a thing wrong with me. And once again, I'm right. Not even a concussion. Though they do go over some medical mumbo-jumbo about recovery time and I don't really remember going into shock. The nurse tells me to wait in my cot for a doctor to check me out. When she leaves, Taylor and I are alone with a thick wall of silence between us. I lay down, deciding to rest for a bit. The doctor shouldn't be too long, right?

"Is he sleeping?"

A hauntingly musical voice hits my ears and my eyes pop open. Edythe is standing beside my cot, her shaking hand gripping the side rail. The nurse simply states that I'll be fine to go home soon and leaves it at that before going off to take care of someone else. Then she looks down at me, and her eyes widen.

"You're awake..."

"I'm a light sleeper. And you're totally unscathed."

"I... y-yes, I am. I just wanted to see how you and uh, Taylor are doing." Edythe turns to Taylor, face twitching in disappointment. I glance over and almost laugh at Taylor's loud snores. "I guess she's okay, too."

"I dunno, I think they switched her with a bear."

"Sounds pretty close, I'll give you that." She lets out a soft giggle. My curiosity keeps building. I want to lay out more bread crumbs, but I open my mouth just in time for the doctor to round the corner. And Lord on high, she's more than I could have imagined.

Young, barely older than Edythe in appearance, with blonde curls braided down her back. Her skin, ghastly white, only adds to the chill I feel when I meet her smiling eyes. Bright red, identical to Edythe's in every way. She smiles at me with perfect heart lips, but the ice that radiates off their bodies sends an instinctive chill of fear up my spine. At this point, I was already convinced about Edythe, but now I can't help but wonder just how many of... of _them_ there are here.

"Ah, the young Beaumont Swan," Doctor Cullen starts in a soft, almost sensual voice. I didn't expect her to have a slight British accent. Especially considering Edythe sounds almost like she's from the Midwest. But somehow it makes sense. "I'm glad to see you in one piece. How are you feeling?"

"I feel fine, ma'am. Looking forward to going home."

She nods, making her way to the light-board over my head and flicking it on. "Well, your x-rays look good. Do you have any pain? Edythe said you hit hard." Her eyes flick over to her sister for a moment, a flash of anger entering her molten ruby irises before they land on me again, taking a sweeter hue. What level of Nirvana did she have to reach to control her emotions like _that_?

"I promise, Doctor Cullen, I'm fine. My head doesn't hurt at all anymore." She lets out a small 'hm' before whisking her fingers over the dark purple splotch on the side of my head. I hiss, a sharp but quick pain shooting through me. She clicks her tongue

"It's a mote tender, lad."

"Pssh, tis a flesh wound." I hear a chuckle and stick my tongue out at Edythe while Doctor Cullen writes on her chart. "Besides, I've had a lot worse than this."

"All right, you can go home, Beaumont. But come back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight. Understood?" She angles her head, looking up at me with a severe, maternal

"Sounds fine to me. I guess I should head back to school, eh?"

"After what you went through, take it easy. I've called and told them you'll be absent for the rest of the day."

"And _her_?" I nod toward Edythe.

"Oh, I'm going home, too. I just need to make a couple stops beforehand. Like getting our homework and dropping them off." A soft chuckle, eyes that refuse to meet mine. Or the doctor's. "I'm just glad we'll be able to get out of here without incident." I shake my head, not seeing the doctor's anxious grin until she makes a sound.

" _Actually_ ," Doctor Cullen drums her fingers on the keyboard, "most of the school seems to be in the waiting room." I lay my face in my hands and groan louder than I intended, earning a strange glance from both Cullen women. "Would you rather stay, Beaumont?"

"No, I just hate crowds..." I rub my temples and hop down from the bed. Apparently, that is enough to upset my equilibrium. I fall against Doctor Cullen, and she meets my eyes with equal parts concern and surprise. "S-sorry about that. I've always been pretty clumsy."

"It sounds to me like you were lucky, young man." Doctor Cullen smiles, helping me stand and signing my chart with an added flourish.

"Yes, it was lucky that Edythe was _s_ tanding right beside me when it all happened. It's remarkable that she wasn't hurt." I break into a wicked smile, noticing body language changes in both Edythe and Doctor Cullen. Edythe's entire body stiffens. Meanwhile, the good doctor is suddenly very interested in the papers before her rather than the patient — aka me.

"Oh, well, yes," She nods repeatedly, turning to Taylor as if to cut me off entirely. Something in the back of my mind doesn't like this situation at all and knowing the doctor is in on it only makes me more determined to understand just what was going on. Doctor Cullen rouses Taylor, talking about extending her stay and examining the injuries. With her back turned, I'm able to slide over to Edythe, my fingers tapping on her shoulder. She lets out a small chirp of surprise, which makes me snort.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" I pull on her arm gently, feeling cold spreading to my fingers and palm through the shirt. She looks up at me, face souring as she pulls her arm back. Her movements are human like, slower than I'm used to. But I don't see her tiptoe to hover just an inch from my face.

"Your mother is in the waiting room, you should talk to her." She hisses through clenched teeth. She's more confident than usual. No stutter, no hesitation. I'm hitting a nerve.

I glance at Doctor Cullen and Taylor, not liking that they can clue in at any second. "Before I do, I need to talk to you. _Please_." She sighs, eyes rolling into her skull. But still, she takes me by the wrist and pulls me down the hallway and around a corridor until we're completely alone. Then she leans against the wall, arms crossed.

"All right, what do you want?" Her voice and eyes are as cold as her skin, a layer of panic in her tone. One thing is definite; I _am_ on to something. I mirror her stance, a brow raised.

"You owe me an explanation."

"I don't owe you shit. I saved your life; you owe me."

"You promised me, Edythe."

"You hit your head, Beau. Y-you don't know what you're talking about." The harshness of her tone is enough to flare my temper, but I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe in slowly. And then out. I lean in, lowing my voice.

"Don't pull that shit on me, tough girl. There is nothing wrong with my memory."

"Just... what do you want, Beau?"

"Mayhaps the truth?" I suggest, a mocking edge in my voice. "I've already covered your ass with Taylor, and I want to know why." She flinches, a near animalistic growl emanating from her throat. Am I triggering a fight-or-flight response? Well, hopefully it's the latter that kicks in.

"What do you think happened back there?"

It all pours out before I can stop myself.

"You weren't anywhere close to me. You were almost on the _other_ side of the parking lot when Taylor came at me. Oh, she didn't see you until the last second either – I convinced her you were there the whole time. You're welcome. The van was going to _kill_ me, but it didn't. And you, your body left _imprints_ in the steel of both the van and the car you pushed me into. Out of all three people who should have died today, you are the only one who doesn't even have a _scratch_ on them. You were holding the van up, so it didn't crush my legs, which is an impressive feat form all angles. That's just topping the list of the shit that I've noticed about you. So, you'll have to forgive me if I'm not willing to deny what you _are_."

She just looks at me, a rush of emotion coming from her brilliant and horrific eyes. Shock, fear, anger, rage... hunger. "You honestly think I stopped a speeding vehicle with my bare hands? Lifted it so it wouldn't crush you?" Her tone is perfect for an actor auditioning for the one sane person in a movie. I scoff, making sure she knows I refuse to back down. "No matter what you think I am, no one will ever believe you."

"What makes you think I'd tell anyone?" I choose my words carefully, keeping my tone level.

Her eyes narrow, "Then why does it matter?"

"It matters to me, Edythe. I hate lying, I suck at it. I especially hate lying for someone who, despite all positive interactions, has just tried to _gaslight me_." She flinches for the second time at my words, almost convincing me I hurt her.

"You can't just thank me and get over it." It isn't a question, somehow that pisses me off even more. I laugh, flipping my hair over my shoulder and setting my hands on my hips.

"Oh, I'm sorry! _Thank you_ for saving my life, Edythe. _Thank_ you every little detail that keeps adding up. _Thank_ you for your inhuman eyes, your _in_ human strength, and your pigheadedness that literally no one warned me about."

"You really won't let this go, are you? Well, in _that_ case, I hope you enjoy disappointment. Because I'm not telling you _shit_." We glare at each other in silence, tears threatening to stream down my cheek. My heart starts to race. The mask of bravery is slowly breaking down with every beat of palpable silence between us. I'm the first to speak.

"You should have seen this coming. You should have let me die." I walk away, not knowing or caring what her reaction is. I am so scared and angry, I can't stop the tears from falling down my face. It clouds my vision. I can't see where I'm going. I stop in the middle of the hall to wipe my eyes. In the distance, I can hear Edythe talking to... someone. A man?

"... you've put us all in danger... what if he tells... Edythe, you idiot!... "

"Just leave me alone, Roe... I don't want to talk about this." Their footsteps get louder, I panic and wonder where to go. But then a sturdy pair of arms pulls me to the side, a warm hug greeting me. That perfume... Charlie!

"Beau! Thank God, you're okay!"

"Yeah, I'm okay Ma. Doctor Cullen says I'm unharmed. But she still wants me to go home and rest."

"Of course," Charlie relaxes, taking my face in her hands. Her face... Her eyes are bloodshot, swollen, there's a shine of what must be snot just over her bottom lip. She cried... my mom cried. Oh God, the guilt is eating my stomach. And the accident wasn't even my fault.

Without a word, Charlie wraps one arm around my own, this time not caring about putting space between us, and escorts me to the exit, me waving with a shy smile to my friends. My phone vibrates like crazy, and I immediately start a group text so I can tell them all I'll talk to them about it tomorrow. I think I'll just make some canned soup and sleep for the rest of today.

We drive in silence, my mind circling around my interactions with Edythe over the overly dramatic course of today. Honestly, I fucked up. I really did. I'm not afraid to admit that I shouldn't have pushed all those buttons after she saved my life – but holy shit, she made it obvious.

She made it _blatantly_ obvious.

And maybe it makes me the craziest man in Washington to keep following little red thread, but it's also the best chance for something... magical to happen in my life. Something wonderful.

I'm so deep in my mind, I don't realize Charlie and I are in the living room until she speaks.

"So, um... you need to call Rene." She chuckles weakly. "Sorry..."

"It's okay, Ma. I kinda expected you too to call him. I mean, he's still my dad, he'll want to know these things." I give him a quick peck on the cheek and run up to my room. I don't want to call him at all, but Dad not panicking trumps personal preferences. I hit her number on speed dial and wait for a response.

Not surprisingly, he's hysterical – rightly so. I have to tell him at least thirty times that I'm fine before he breathes in a normal manner. He decides I need to come home within the next couple days – apparently forgetting that I only have a key for the empty house in Phoenix – because Forks is clearly more dangerous than a massive city. I tell him I'm staying for three reasons: Charlie, my friends, and Edythe. Which makes me feel stupid, since after today I think any friendship we were building might be in the dust. But after today, I don't think I'd be able to leave for a single day without wondering what mischief she's gotten into.

Charlie ordered us Chinese instead of cooking – infinitely better than my soup idea. She watches over me for a while, but eased back once it fully clicked with her that I'm not passing out any time soon. I think she's having a harder time coping with this than Rene is. At least he wouldn't have had to identify my body if... okay, no. Don't think about that. You've thought about that way too much.

I grab two Tylenol from my bathroom, which helps the remnants of the pain in my temple, and go to bed early, deciding to deal with homework in the morning.

I dream of Edythe Cullen.


	5. Hallucinations

Liquid darkness surrounds me, drowning all light but the glimpse on the horizon. In that light is Edythe, her back towards me as she slowly walks away. I run, calling out to her, going as fast as my legs can carry me. But no progress is made, the sludge of the world engulfing my limbs until I can’t even move. And she hasn’t acknowledged me, hasn’t looked back, hasn’t given a simple head tilt. It’s like I’m not here. Or like I’m… I’m fading away. I fall back, and she’s looking down at me with her black, void eyes. Her sharpened, starving features that scream of her feral nature.

I can see my hand slowly wrinkle, shriveling to bone... and then to dust. I fail. I can't reach her. My body becomes too weak for me to even breathe... hands all over me, around my neck, holding my unseen wrists behind me. Pain burns through my skin, on my arms and on my shoulder. I feel the puncture of teeth, fangs burying into my flesh and bone. And then a shock of lightning straight through my veins. It burns. I can't move, I can't breathe.

And from above, my light, my only sign of life. Edythe reaches for me, too far to grasp even my clothing. I scream voiceless, tears streaming from my eyes. Her face, stone-like and emitting a cold radiance, moves slightly with her lips.

" _... stay with me, love..."_

For the entire school day, Taylor Crowley follows me. She apologizes with every breath, pleads with her eyes, wanting some way to make yesterday up to me. Doesn’t she get it? Accidents _happen_ , and no one was killed. There is literally nothing she needs to do. Still, no matter how many times I repeat myself, she insists. I consider for a brief second having her do my homework, but that would just be cruel.

Come lunch, she's finally torn herself off my side and retreats to her table. And returns to take a spot at the far end of mine. Wonderful.

"I can't believe you came today, Beau," Jesse says with a cheeky grin. "If a van nearly killed me, I'd still be in bed, or at the mall, or just doing nothing. Not like Doc Cullen didn't give you a note to use."

"Dude, all I got was a bump to the head. I'm fine. If it hadn't been for Edythe, I'd probably be dead right now." From the corner of my eye, a blur of white and blue comes into focus.

"Uh, what do you mean?" Jesse practically laughs. "She probably ran over with the rest of us."

"Actually — "

"Beau's right, Jess," Taylor pulls his attention away from me, finishing her bite with one finger raised. "I saw her, she was beside Beau before I made impact with... with _something_. I didn't see what, but I know she was there with him."

The table goes silent. Heads slowly turn to me. Wait, no... beside me?

_"Beau..._ " Edythe gently taps my shoulder and I glance up. She looks exhausted, and guilty, and her irises aren't the bright, fiery red from yesterday. They're rusty. Her fingers drum along the bottom of the tray. "May I... sit with you today? My nephew is uh," she turns to her table, to the strangely pink-haired Roland — who is looking pissed off, " _moody_ , and unlike the others, I can only take so much of it."

“Only if that’s cool with everyone else.” She looks at the others at the table, eyes flicking over them one at a time, her face shifting from hard to soft by the time she looks back at me. We lock eyes, and for a brief second my skull buzzes. I flinch and it stops, her eyes looking right over my head.

No one says she can sit, but she does anyway, with her single bagel and black water bottle. The rest of the table slowly adjusts to their usual conversations. I go back to my food, pretending not to feel the cold air from my neighbor. I lean forward a bit, checking to see if the other person feels it too – but she’s at the very end of the table. No one else is close enough to touch her aura.

She doesn't jump in at any point, just eats her bagel slowly. Occasionally, her eyes flick around to examine everyone. Everyone but me. But every time they get within an inch of me, the buzzing — light, to my relief — returns. I can’t tell what the cause of it is, but I definitely know the origin at this point. Must be something unique to what she is. I glance over at the other Cullens. Can they do that too?

Tired of the tension, I turn toward Edythe and clear my throat. “So, what do you play?”

“Hmm?” She chirps, hand stopping half-way to pushing an earbud into its home.

“I saw you composing, so I can only assume you’re also a musician. I play bass, both guitar and upright. What about you?”

“O-oh! I play a few different instruments, but my favorite is the piano. My father taught me.” Edythe smiles fondly, tucking the earbud inside her curls before handing me the other one. “If you want, you can hear what I was working on. I’ve got all but the second harmony recorded.” I take the wireless contraption and tuck my hair behind my ear, slipping it in. I scoot closer to her, my eyes following her fingers as she scrolls through a list of recordings titled “ _Work in Progress Number_ ,” until she hits the one with four digits beside it.

Subtle as a freight train.

Strong, invigorating music shakes me to the core. Violin and piano waltz beautifully, building in my heart and flowing through my arms, sparking like lightning between my fingers. My breathing catches in my throat as colors form in my mind with every note and run. I barely feel Edythe’s icy fingers take the earbud from me. She bites her lip.

"Was that... did you like it?"

"That was amazing..." I let out a choked laugh and look at the others. Everyone is looking at me like us with scandalized eyes, but at this moment I don't care. "She’s extraordinary! You have to let me hear the finished piece," I face Edythe, no doubt having the dumbest grin on my face. She blinks slowly, her brows furrowed together. After a second, Edythe smiles, softly thanks me, and returns to composing an additional part to her song. I take out my sketchbook and draw the forms that came from her music, vowing to color it at home – maybe watercolor? Or pastels! That would look _beautiful_.

It becomes routine after a while. Edythe meets us at our table at lunch, sits at the end by me, and writes her music. Sometimes she takes part in conversation, but not verbally. She’ll nod, snort, and make expressions that convey speech better than speaking. Everyone warms up to her, even Jesse. It was touch-and-go for a while. By March, pretty well everyone was comfortable with her presence.

And all the while, I observed. Every day her eyes would darken, and her cheeks become more sickly. Only for her to return on Monday with flushed skin and brilliantly red eyes. Her family kept too far away for me to see if they were experiencing the same changes, but now that I know her sister has the same eyes and skin, it’s only safe to assume they’re all this way. I've grown used to her, started looking forward to seeing her more than anything. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that any day she could pull me into a dark room and…

"Beau! Did you hear a word I said?"

I blink and look around, getting a grasp on my surroundings. Jesse lets out a cute little sound and pouts, doing a combination of tapping his foot and crossing his arms for emphasis. I must have zoned out. _Again_.

"S-sorry, Jess. Care to repeat?" He sighs and stops, leading me to the side of the hallway so the others headed to their classes don't have to avoid us.

"I said, has anyone asked you to the Sadie Hawkins dance? It's in exactly two weeks." I raise my brow.

"You guys have dances on a _Tuesday_ night?"

"What? Oh, you asshole! It's that Saturday. I didn't expect you to take it so literally." Jesse rubs his arm, eyes on the floor. "I was hoping to go with Michelle, but I overheard a couple girls saying she was gonna ask you.”

"Michelle? Why would she? Honestly, I probably won't even go."

"Really? Why not?"

"You've seen me, I've got two left feet and no hand-eye coordination."

"Yeah, that's true." He bounces excitedly, his curls bouncing vigorously. He has to take some time to straighten himself before we continue down the hallway. “Would it be completely rude of me to like… _suggest_ to Michelle that we go together?”

“I mean, it’s a girl’s choice dance, and you’re a boy.”

“Well, no shit, Sherlock. I wasn’t gonna ask her outright, just you know, tell her I’d _like_ to go with her. Just open the door a bit. A crack.”

“Honestly, if you like her so much, then maybe you should let her know the option is there. Better than not doing it and watching her ask some random dude, or worse – _me_.” I fake a disgusted shiver, and he snorts out a laugh.

“Yeah, then we’d all be feeling miserable and awkward. Thanks, Beau.”

There's a small absence of him between the end of Trig and the start of lunch. Edythe is already at the table, but this time with just her drinking bottle, no food. I gather a salad and some tots and sit beside her, noting the lack of Jesse and Michelle at the table. The conversation goes pretty well like normal until Michelle shows up.

She’s smiling, but it's forced, never touching her eyes like it should. And in her eyes, I see annoyance. Jesse doesn't show until after lunch, and by the red under his eyes and the trace of reapplied make-up -- not my business -- his conversation with Michelle didn't go well. I swallow hard, wanting to ask him if he’s okay, but not knowing how.

Should I hug him? Maybe ask him over? And what did she say that made him cry so hard? By the time I have even a _clue_ of what to say, I'm in the shower at home, hair sudsy and bashing my forehead against the tile until it cracks.

I search for him all Wednesday, asking Erica and Angel, ignoring Michelle as much as possible. Then lunch comes, and I realize Jesse _isn’t_ coming to school. My stomach immediately sinks, fear races through, sending panicked and unorganized thoughts through my head. I race to my truck, earning two bruises on my face thanks to a pothole.

My hand touches the Thing's handle, and a honk makes me scream.

" _Beau,_ get in!" Edythe leans over and opens the door, patting the old leather seat. Either she got permission to leave too, or she just doesn’t care. I slip in the passenger's side and buckle up. "You know where he lives, right?"

"Uh, yeah, just two blocks down from me."

"Can I get specifics? House number maybe?" I pull up his contact on my phone and show her the screen. "That's perfect. Now, hold on." I don't feel it, but looking out the window I can see just how fast she's driving. My heart races.

"Edythe, slow down!"

"Can't. We're gonna hydroplane all the way to Jesse's."

"Yeah, speaking of, how did _you_ know what I was up to?" I squint at her, expecting some stuttering and an obvious excuse.

"Michelle. Every time I get near her, she's whining about Jesse making such an _enormous_ deal about this dance. There's enough annoyance in her mind to piss anyone off."

“Her mind, you say?”

"... shit, forget I said that!"

"Already engraved in my memory banks."

Her glare distracts me from the speed we're traveling at, and when I look out the window, I'm shocked to see the front of Jesse's house, **THE STANLEYS** in massive letters on the mailbox. I expect her to stay in the car, but she follows close behind, tentatively knocking on the door for me.

Jesse opens it, his face blotchy, and a little swollen. I almost don't recognize her. Without any makeup, his face is acne-ridden, and his hair is a tangled mess held back by a headband. Even messy, he’s adorable to see. He opens his mouth to speak when he realizes just who we are.

"B-Bea... Edy... what are you two doing here?"

"We wanted to check on you." I look over at Edythe, who is nodding her head. "What happened?"

"Oh, Michelle turned me down... said she’d rather go alone than even _consider_ taking me. No big deal, I mean, it's not like it's _prom_ or anything. And there are plenty of other girls in Forks, right?"

"Yeah, right," Edythe agrees and clears her throat. "And between you and me and the Jolly Green Giant—" She pats my shoulder, earning an elbow to the rather hard gut "—you could do way better than Michelle Newton. I know a few… _people_ who would give their left arms just to talk to you." His eyes widen, and Edythe takes it as a 'yes, please'. " I'll tell them to call you, or to meet you at lunch. They're close to my niece, Jaz, so you know they're trustworthy."

"Y-yeah, you're right..." Jesse opens the door fully and sniffles. "I'll be back to school tomorrow, I just... I need some time."

"You must really like her..." I reach out and offer a hug. He declines, but doesn't deny. "Jess, I'm so sorry. But don't let her get you down. You're smart, funny, and sweet. Anyone would be lucky to go to the dance with you." We spend the next little while on the porch swing, just talking about whatever comes to mind. He even listens to Edythe's song in progress.

There is a beep, and Edythe pulls her phone out. Then lets out a high squeak of panic.

"That was my sister... not only are we late for Bio, but she's in the office with Chief Swan, and we may or may not have detention." She stands and grabs my wrist. So tightly it causes pain, and I gasp.

"Oh no! H-here, I'll come with. Maybe having me there will help get you out of trouble. I'm so sorry. Just give me a couple minutes."

Jesse takes over the explanation when we get there, the principal and a pair of exhausted women listening and nodding with flat expressions. I know Charlie is going to be mad; she hates being dragged from work. But when I look at her, I see a bit of pride in her eyes. Then I look at Dr. Cullen.

I swear, she's got something red leaking down from the corner of her mouth. My hands shake as a familiar iron scent hits my nose. It's faint, but it's there. Only further compounding everything I think of them. At this point, I should keep a sharp eye out for bats. I look away until we’re dismissed.

I go straight to P.E., being told by Clapp to sit out since the period is nearly over. I play on my phone, letting out a sigh of relief when Charlie texts me with a bunch of smiles and a thumbs up. Of course she understands, she’s the best mom in the world. I sit back and watch the team Michelle's on get completely creamed.

Serves the queen bitch right.

There's someone leaning on my truck when I get to it. It’s Taylor Crowley, with her hands in her pockets and a soft smile on his face. I stop a couple feet from the driver's door and tilt my head.

"Taylor, hey. What's up?"

"Oh, not much, I just uh... small question. Are you going to the dance in a couple weeks?"

Oh God, don't tell me...

“I was actually going to Jacksonville that weekend. My dad and I made plans to catch up and like… do dude things together. You know, like dads and sons do. Sorry about that. I hear the new Senior, Laurence Mallory, is single, though.” I duck down a bit, knowing I way over explained that. At least looking at her face tells me she believes my huge lie, even waving politely when she goes to her rental car.

"Well, she’s got her hopes up." I don't even have to turn to know who it is.

"Seems like it. I hate to be the ass who keeps denying hers=, but it's not like she owes me or I owe her. But _you_ still owe me," I glance over my shoulder and wink. "And the longer you go, the more I press." I open the toolbox under the rear window, tossing my backpack in.

"You don't give up, do you?" Edythe huffs, her voice barely over a breath.

"I'm as stubborn as my mother. But don't worry," I turn and give her a gigantic smile, “I already know what you are. It’s up to you to read my mind.” She blanches, if that’s even possible, and stares at me. Looking for signs that I’m lying. “Maybe if you actually talk to me about it, I’ll let you know what my ultimate answer is.”

"I can't wait... see you tomorrow, _Beau_." She pulls her hood up and turns toward her silver car right as the sun comes out. Everyone around us basks. I hop in The Thing.

I do my homework at the kitchen table while Charlie makes dinner. I can smell meat, which makes my stomach churn, but knowing her there will be something special for me. I can't focus on my worksheet, though. Too annoyed. Everything is rushing through my skull at 200 miles an hour.

I feel like I’m digging my own grave by toying with Edythe Cullen and her family.

There is a sharp pain in my forehead, and I look up. Charlie is holding two plates, and, with a smug grin, she sets a veggie enchilada by my textbook. I put my homework aside and pull my hair into an elastic. Heh, I guess I completely zoned. I take a long drink of water and start eating.

"You gonna tell me what's on your mind, or do I have to make phone calls?"

"Ma, it's nothing."

"Don't you 'it's nothing' me, Beaumont Geoffrey." She wags a finger in my direction, her face severe. "I was a detective before they made me chief, I know when people have something on their mind. Is it the Cullen girl again?"

“Well… yes and no. It isn’t like she’s done anything bad, or anyone’s said anything. We’re even hanging out at school!”

"That's wonderful! No wonder Clarice's been so happy lately. She never thought the kid would find her clique. So, if it's nothing bad, then what is it?"

"Well..." I scratch the back of my neck. She’s my mom, and she been here longer than me. I can see two possibilities. Either she’ll pat my head and laugh, or she’ll sign me up for a therapist. Honestly, I think I want the latter. "Remember when I said the other students talk about how weird the Cullen family is? I'm thinking they're right, but not for whatever reason they thought."

Charlie stops mid-bite to squint at me. "What do you mean, Bo boy?"

"I uh... Edythe's skin is super cold, and her eyes do weird color changes... I don’t think she’s human. Or her sister. Maybe even the whole family? I-I dunno. She just seems too… too good to be true." I swallow hard, waiting for Charlie's reaction. After a minute, I look up. She is leaning on her hands, deep in thought. She takes in a deep breath and sighs.

"I have logical explanations for everything but that last observation. She’s nearly blind and wears contacts. They can change eye color, or even how light affects irises. As for the hands, Clarice said it’s some kind of circulatory issue." She takes some bites of her chicken and continues. "But I am proud of you for accepting her into your weird little friend group, but if you think she’s _that_ amazing, I think you’ve got more than friendship on the brain.” My cheeks fire up.

“I-I mean… well, she… but I… may-maybe. Maybe…” We eat in silence after that. I don’t believe a single thing she said. She wasn't defensive or short, but everything sounded so rehearsed. Like she had readied herself for me to ask about Edythe. The idea of my mom trying to trick me like that is just salt in a fresh surface cut. But I won't back down. After I finish eating, I clean my dishes and take my homework to my bedroom — giving Charlie a kiss on the forehead before leaving.

I fall asleep at my desk, homework incomplete, and wake to the sound of screaming. I shoot straight up, the air around me rank with the stench of decay and blood. I'm not awake. I'm in a dream. I glance over at the bed beside me and fall back, landing on a hard tile floor.

"This is a nightmare..."

" _Is she going to make it? My daughter, Dr. Cullen?_ "

" _I can't say for sure, Mr. Masen. Only time will tell._ " That voice... that accent. " _You just rest. You have your own health to look out for now. Next patient..._ " I look up, stunned at the sight of Clarice Cullen, long hair pulled back, tapping a clipboard with a fountain pen. " _... Edythe._ "

I'm dragging myself through school the next day. After that strange dream, I couldn't make myself go to sleep, no matter what I did. I showered, I drank tea, I meditated, I drew, I blasted music. Nothing helped. Erica has to shake me awake after English class, along with Mrs. Jameson and a fresh "Lunch Detention" slip. God, I've never had detention before... Charlie is going to be so pissed.

I spend the rest of the morning in a daze. Every time my head droops, I stab my hand with a pencil just to get the rush that keeps me awake. When lunch comes around, I have the pleasure of explaining to Jesse that I won't be eating with them today.

"You, in detention? Aww, but you’re a goodie two-shoes!" He laughs in a teasing tone, playfully punching my shoulder. “How did _that_ happen?” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose as I explain that I keep dozing off today. That makes him raise a brow. "I do that, but I've never gotten in trouble."

"Did you do it during the lecture?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Shush! That’s why. I'll see you later." We part ways with a wave, a Freshman teacher leading me to the detention room. He directs me to one of the many tables, only a couple occupied, saying she'll call us in to get lunch later. We're not to sleep, but we can read or do work. I don't have any work. I’m fighting against my own eyelids at this point.

When he leaves, I sit in the farthest corner and stare out the window. The other kids are chatting, but they're all younger than me, and are a bit of a clique. Which is fine, I'm not interested in widening my friend circle. Especially when I’m already so attached to the ones I just got.

The teacher calls us to go get our trays, and the Freshmen vanish in a flash. But not me, I wave him off and he leaves without a word. Nope, too tired to be hungry. I stare out the window, at the gray sky and the blue-tinted grass. Everything looks so dead out there, even without the rain. Hell, a little rain would make things a little interesting. I chew my pen, waiting for the others to return. Shouldn’t take them too long, right?

I look at the clock on the wall after a couple minutes. Half of it is missing, and the plastic looks corroded. I circle the room with my eyes, noting strange changes. Some lights are out or blinking. All the desks are falling apart, the chalkboard is missing huge chunks ... and here I thought I’d seen it all.

A woman walks in, her face hidden by a dingy blue hood. She picks up the chalk, points it at me, and starts writing. When she's done, she bows and leaves. I face the board, completely confused. It reads " _The Hunter is coming_ ".

"... hunter?"

"Hey, you okay?" One of the Freshman boys pokes my cheek. I look at him, his eyes wide. "You kinda passed out there. Didn't you get some food?"

"I'm not hungry. But thanks. I'll be fine."

I'm a little more awake when I walk to my truck, but still completely confused by what I saw in the detention room. Was it a daydream, or did I legitimately fall asleep? Both make sense, but Christ, I haven’t seen shit like that since Rene and Phillipa got in a car crash. I can't think... I lean against the driver's door of The Thing for a minute, face in my hands, gathering my composure.

A cold hand at my shoulder makes me jump. I don't even have to look at them to know who it is.

"Beau, are you okay?" Edythe asks, her hand trembling against me. "You were kinda ... zombified in Bio class. And I heard you got pelted in gym. Are you sick?" She takes a step back, hands deep in her pockets.

"Just tired is all. I didn't sleep well last night."

"Oh... well, if it's any consolation, I didn't either." She chuckles, pulling a laugh out of me. The joke was meant for her alone, but I’m in on it. Though the fact that she’s out during the daytime is still remarkable to me. “I can talk to Clarice for you, if you want. You do seem pretty sleep deprived.” Ironic that she’s worried about my well being when she looks like she hasn’t had a full meal in years.

I lay my cards down.

"Hey, how do you do that?"

"Do what?"

“Appear out of nowhere. I was the only one here just a blink ago.”

"It isn't my fault you're the least observant person in Forks, Beau," she says with conviction, arms crossed. "People don't just appear, you know."

"Oh, yeah?" I narrow my eyes slightly, returning her smug grin. "Least observant person in Forks, eh? So how come no one else notices your eyes change color?”

"It's the lights, Bea -"

"I’m also the only person who noticed the dents on the car that just so happen to be the same width as your shoulders. There’s also a hand-shaped dent on Taylor’s van. Betcha it’d match your hand if you lined them up.”

"..." Edythe sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. " You're too observant, Beau. I can’t stop you from doing… whatever this is, but please believe me when I say you _don’t_ want to get involved. Please. For me?"

“Well, it’s like you said before. I’m observant, and you can’t stop me. Besides, I like to know my friends. And whatever it is you’re into, I’m not scared of it.”

" _Beau_ ," she hisses under her breath, rising onto her toes, "you are utterly absurd. If the wrong person finds out how curious you are about… you could get into serious trouble. You could get hurt, or worse." Her face softens, totally somber. She looks terrified. "You're the first friend outside my brood I've had in _years_ , it’d kill me if something were to happen."

“Edythe, I know you think I’m playing with death, but it isn’t the case. I’m not as ignorant as you may think.” My palm tingles — I’ve never more wanted show someone more. I tighten my fists, shoving them into my pockets. “Don’t be afraid.”

"I’m not afraid. I’m just… see you tomorrow." And with that, she turns on her toes and goes to the quartet waiting for her.


	6. Catalyst

I'm running through the dense, endless forest. I can’t see through the trees, and the sun too low to color the sky. It’s just barely a pinprick in the far horizon. There is a path under my feet, but it's thin and covered in hazards. I've already cut my face tripping over a root and a stone. But I have to keep going. She’s right behind me, I know she is. I can see her eyes.

Her empty void eyes.

And her bitter laugh.

" _Run, baby boy...._ " God, his voice is on the wind. " _With your heart racing, it makes you smell even more appetizing._ "

She’s going to kill me, she's going to... to...

" _Beau, run!_ " I skid to a halt, turning in time to see two figures charging at each other.

"Edythe?" Two seconds later I'm in my bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Maybe I should ask Dr. Cullen about sleeping meds. Might stop the stupid dreams, or at least let me feel rested after them. I sit up, hair a cloud around my head.

I swear, if any of these dreams come true, I am suing God for damages.

I trudge to English class, my backpack hanging behind me. I didn't realize I was over twenty minutes late until Mrs. Jameson cleared her throat, barely pulling me from my daze. Her arms are crossed, and her face highly disappointed.

"Thank you for joining us, Beaumont."

"I'm sorry, ma’am. My truck didn't want to start today."

"Don't even worry about it, everyone gets one free tardy from me. Just take your seat, we haven't got all day." I nod and hurry to my desk, noticing right away that Michelle is on the other side of the classroom, Erica settled in her usual spot. She shrugs at me, and we both focus on the lesson. The only thing I pick up on is the reading is _Dracula_ _–_ my bitter laugh making some of the students jump _–_ the rest of the class becomes one muddy mess.

In what feels like a second and yet is just as exhausting as a full day, I sit at the Michelle-free lunch table, everyone but Edythe and I chatting about the weather this weekend. No rain or overcast for 24 hours. And a temperature higher than I've heard since I've come to Forks — a full seventy degrees. I would share their enthusiasm, but God help me, I just can't. Even with the caffeine and sugar, I can’t bring myself to keep my eyes open.

Every two seconds, Edythe's eyes are on me and the buzzing makes my eyes water. It hammers, attempting to crack my skull wide. I know Erica just said something to me, but I don’t understand what. Once the buzzing vanishes, I speak up.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said, are you still good for La Push on Saturday?"

“Oh... well, I gotta talk to my mom first, but she’s good friends with Billie Black, so it shouldn't be too big of a deal.” I pull my hair back and let out a sigh. “If I don't get grounded.”

"Because of yesterday? What, you _still_ haven't told her?" Jesse pipes in, his voice squeaking at the end of the questions. I groan.

"I have, but she was practically drooling in her recliner, so I doubt she really understood at the tie. She’ll be ready with a lecture when he gets home, I’m sure." Everyone nods and mutters in understanding, but continues to talk about the trip. Even Angel, the normally silent one, is giddy about hearing the Quileute read them _The Raven Tales_ , or at least buying a copy for his own.

A light tap on my shoulder causes me to turn my head. Edythe is smiling at me, her eyes brighter than I've ever seen them. And her skin has a pink hue to it. She leans over and whispers in my ear with her haunting voice.

"May we sit alone today? I want to talk to you."

Why I follow her I really don't know. Maybe it’s the yearning for privacy, or even the fact that I genuinely want to be alone with this girl. Either way, I find myself sitting across from her, her eyes on the table just behind me. I peak – it’s her family, staring at us, with their bright red eyes. One theory confirmed. How the hell am I the first one to notice this?

“This is different,” I say, lacing my hands behind my head. “Kinda nice, but ultimately different. So, what’s the cause of this?”

"Well..." She pauses, and then the rest of her words come in a vomit-like rush, "since I'm already going to Hell, I may as well do it thoroughly. Know what I mean?"

“I think I have a clue.”

“I was hoping to hear something along the lines of ‘not a damn clue’. You being led rather than… bulldozing your way through it. Either is just as dangerous as the other, but still…”

“I honestly consider your hesitance to be open with me as a challenge. You and I both know I’m not stupid, and you know that I know something – bit of fun on my side, really.” I chuckle, feeling my phone vibrate like crazy in my pocket. "Our friends seem a little miffed that we left without telling them. I suppose we’ll be back over there come tomorrow.”

"Just one lunch period together? You so sure about that?" She twirls her copper curls around her finger, eyes downcast, whispering so quietly I barely hear her voice. " _I may not give you back_." My lip curls up, and I lean forward in my chair. “You seem to like that.”

"You got that right. You still owe me answers, after all. For how you saved me, for what your deal is. Nothing logical adds up, and the fantastic is as exciting as it is improbable. But ultimately, you had to trigger the process. Just what brought all this about?"

Her smile slowly fades, and she lets out a soft sigh. "I decided... when I joined the group over there, that I was going to give up. Give up hiding from you, give up controlling myself. On being this good, quiet girl I've forced myself to be — that everyone in my family has made ourselves be." Her voice falters, hands shaking so violently she has to clasp them together. I can't tell what is causing her body, from hands to lips, to tremble so violently. Excitement? Fear? "But the only reason I did any of this... is because I met _you_."

“Because I’m oh-so special?” I joke, rolling my eyes. “Or because I can see what’s under the skin? I mean, other than that, I’m pretty well a nobody.”

"... that's where you're wrong. I can see it in your eyes, I can feel it when you're around."

"So, you won't outright tell me anything?"

"I'm not _allowed_ openly say anything, Beau. This is dangerous enough without me just breaking every rule set out for me. Well, anymore. But since you’ve come to a conclusion, the only thing left is for you to declare it – and see if you’re right.” Aah, now that makes sense. She’s setting out a trail, one that I’m following faithfully. Because she’s glad I noticed something. She’s _happy_ I’m not in the dark.

She _wants_ me to know what she is.

"I know being friends with me... probably wasn't a consideration of yours in the beginning. And I won't lie, us being even acquaintances won't be good for you. _I_ won't be good for you."

“You’re a person, not a cigarette.”

“This isn’t the time for jokes!” She snarls, glaring at me. Like an animal. Something on my face bothers her. Her anger falls in a second, and she takes in slow breaths to calm himself. "I... I'm sorry, I'm not... I'm not like this. Not usually."

“You know, I’ve heard that before.” I start braiding a small piece of my hair absently.

"... what are you thinking?"

I meet her eyes, sorrow lingering, and speak honestly. "That I definitely I know what you are now."

"And what would that be?" She asks with a locked jaw and uneasy eyes.

"Wouldn't you like to know..." I’m not ready to admit it, not aloud. I want to learn more, what to study more. Make sure I understand what I’m getting into before I take this one step further. I just hope she’ll say ‘yes’.

"You can't just leave me hanging like this, Beau..."

"I’m afraid you’re stuck with the ‘no’, Edythe.” She winces, looking like I just slapped her in the face. Not knowing what I am thinking seems to pain her more than anything, making me wonder just how many layers there are to her.

"Do you have any idea how frustrating this is?"

"Gotta say no," my eyes narrow and I give my head a slight tilt, "But considering I’m talking to the one person in this school that can be equal parts mysterious and obvious in a manner that is so curious that they have me enraptured in every aspect of them, from the casual to the impossible, I _think_ – just think – I might have an inkling of what you’re feeling.”

“Wh – you’ve got quite the mouth on you, you know that?”

"A mouth? Ha, maybe. Honest to a fault, my dad used to say. Never got caught in a lie because of that."

She giggles, taking a sip from her bottle. There is a faint whiff of iron in the air. "Hmm?" Her eyes flick over my shoulder, and she lets snorts out a laugh. "Might wanna text our friends back at the table."

"What?"

"Erica seems to _think_ I'm being unpleasant to you — she's debating if she should break up our little debate."

"Well, that’s awful sweet of her. But I doubt she'd do that." I tighten the braid, wanting it to stay in place.

"I don't. I told you, most people are easy to read."

"Pssh. Everyone but me, eh?"

"Yes. Everyone but you." Her mood shifts, she looks down at her tray. "I still haven't figured that one out..." Her eyes follow my movements as I keep picking at my food, my annoyance slowly fading into indifference. "You aren't hungry?"

“Nah, not really. I’m too damn tired to keep food in my mouth. What about you?”

" _No, I'm not_." Her eyes flick to the side and her lip curls, like someone enjoying a private joke with themself. “But you should eat _something_.” She chides, wagging her finger at me.

"Alright, Mom."

"Ooh, harsh." She scratches her arm, tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek. Why is everything she does so cute? "Better to be the Mom Friend than the hungry one, though."

"I suppose." I eat more, chewing slowly, leaving him in silence. Edythe clears her throat.

"... you're not very talkative."

“I slept 4 hours last night.”

“That’s concerning. Severely.”

“You’re not the only one with weirdness, Edythe. Sleeping is just as exhausting as being awake. So, I stay up until I can’t function, and flop on the bed.” I shrug, puffing my cheeks out. “And don’t you dare Mom Friend me over that.”

“If you don’t start sleeping, I’ll come to your house and tie you up.” Edythe challenges, leaning in. I smirk.

“Oh, will you?”

“Stop being nasty!” She playfully snaps, laughing softly. My hand goes to my chest, feeling my heart quicken in pace. I take in the pink on her soft, hollow cheeks, and the way she worries her bottom lip with her teeth. The way her hair falls in front of her face. If I were brave, I’d tuck it behind her ear. But I’m not… so I change the subject.

“Was this worth it, then? Pulling us from the crowd for a bit?”

She nods her head, her lower lip vanishing into her mouth. With a pop, she looks at me with an open mouth and lifts a finger. Then she closes her mouth and shakes her head. _Stop staring at her mouth, you fucking creep_. I meet her eyes.

"I want to talk to you more about..." she lowers her voice, "about what you _know_ I _am_. But not here. May I come over tonight, after you've retired for the evening?"

"Like, once I'm in my room? You really expect my mom to let you in the house _in the middle of the night_? Charlie’s chill, but she isn’t the kind to leave two 18-year-olds in a room together."

"How about this — you tell me if I can come over and leave the rest to me. Deal?"

“Be in and out of the house by nine, and we got a deal. I need to wash my hair.” I flip the dark frizzles over my shoulder dramatically.

"Sounds fair. And uh... since you won't tell me your theory, allow me to say one thing that may add to it.” Oh boy, here we go. “You like to draw, but I see your main focus is music. At least, judging by your fingers. Callouses on the fingertips rather than where the pencil rests. If I had a theme song, it would be the _Dies Irea_."

Now that is cheesy, but informative. The _Dies Irea_ is a common motif in film scores, a four-note run that often signifies something bad is going to happen – a murder, an accident. More often than not, someone dies. It’s plain to me that Edythe considers herself a harbinger of death. Maybe even homicidal... _dangerous_. Which is pretty well obvious, considering she can lift _vans_.

Someone to avoid. But with every cell in my body, I want, I _need_ , to understand her. Her condition. Everything about Edythe fascinates me. I just… have this instinct to keep her close.

And from the way her eyes now wander over me like a hungry wolf, I can guess that I fascinate her as well. My anxiety spikes, my cheeks light up. She licks her lower lip, and I finally look away from her to see why my phone is buzzing like crazy.

The cafeteria is almost empty.

"Shit, we're going to be late!" I gather my belongings in a rush, downing what was left of my lemonade and turning toward the door. Then I paused, looking over my shoulder. "You coming, lab partner?"

"Nah, not today." Standing, she flattens her shirt back into proper place. "My sister believes it's healthy to ditch class every so often. And since I'm an adult, she can't stop me." She winks, snapping his fingers.

"I'll see you later, then. Knowing me, I’ll face plant half-way there."

I wave goodbye over my shoulder as I run to the door, first bell adding to my speed. I glance behind me, confused that she hasn't moved even an inch, and jog to class. As I panic my way there, the entire discussion plays over and over in my head. It thrills me. We’re actually bonding over this.

I get lucky; Dr. Molina isn't in the room yet. I settle quickly into my seat, aware that both Michelle and Angel are staring at me. Michelle looks resentful, Angel surprised. And both... slightly awed. I chance a wave as Dr. Molina comes in, calling the class to order. She juggles a few small cardboard boxes in her arms, ordering Michelle and another girl to pass out the contents. Then her hands clap together.

"Okay, kids, I want you all to take one piece from each box," she says, producing a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of her lab jacket. The sharp sound as the gloves snapped into place against her wrists sends an ominous shock down my spine. 

"The first should be an indicator card," she continues, grabbing a white card with four squares marked on it and displaying it. "The second is a four-pronged applicator -" she holds up something that looks like a nearly toothless hair pick "- and the third is a sterile micro-lancet. " Finally, there is a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb is invisible from this distance, but my stomach flipped two objects ago. 

Oh no. Oh no. Oh _no._

"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don't start until I get to you. " She starts at Angel's table, carefully putting one drop of water in each of the four squares. "Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet… " She takes his hand and stabs the spike into the tip of Angel's middle finger. Instantly I cover my nose, my breathing quickens.

"Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs. " She squeezes his finger till the blood flows, and my stomach convulses. I gag, I clamp my eyes shut. I can almost hear the snap of people's necks turning toward me.

"And then apply it to the card," she finishes, somehow being louder than the ringing in my ears. But it overtakes her voice, and while she continues to give the why's and how's of the lesson, I feel my legs slowly become jelly, the bottoms of my feet slacking on the floor. I can't breathe without the awful smell assaulting my nose, my lungs. I hide my face in my arms, hoping the smells on my clothes can overpower the stench of blood.

I breathe slowly through my mouth, pressing my cheek against the icy surface of the tabletop. Stay calm, Beau. Stay calm...

"Beaumont?" I hear Dr. Molina over my shoulder, the concern palpable.

"Nurse... please..."

"I need a student to take Mister Swan to the nurse's office; now!"

I feel a soft hand on my back, and know right away who it is.

"Can you walk?" Angel asks. I nod. So long as I get out of here, I'll _crawl_.

Almost tenderly, he wraps his arm around my waist and drapes mine around his neck. It’s an awkward position, since I’m half a foot over his head, but we make it work. One step at a time, we creep across campus. I keep my eyes on the floor, watching the transition from tile to concrete, to grass. It's when I know we're a good distance from Dr. Molina's eyes that I clear my throat. My free hand goes straight to my head.

"Beau?"

"Can we... sit? Just for a second?" He guides me down to the curb, my feet on the asphalt lot. I slump over on my side, resting on the damp sidewalk. It's hard and cold, but right now that's what I need. I close my eyes, soothing a bit of the pressure behind them.

"Mmm... you're so pale, Beau." Angel whispers, squeezing my shoulder. "Well, paler than usual." I can't help but cough out a chuckle at that.

" _Beau_?" a different voice calls from the distance.

What? No, she left. I _have_ to be imagining her voice.

"What's wrong — is he hurt?" Her voice is closer, cracking, and has a tinge to it. She’s here alright. Can't imagine those little details, much as I try. I squeeze my eyes tight and hope to die. Or, at least, not hurl on everyone. Then death would be my only choice.

"We were blood typing, and he just got so sick... I think he fainted." Angel's voice seems slightly further away, and I hear footsteps.

" _Beau_?" Edythe's voice is right beside me, and her cold makes me shiver. "Can you hear me?"

"No." I groan, curling up tighter. "Beaumont can't come to the phone right now.”

"I was taking him to the nurse," Angel says, now sounding closer to Edythe. "But he asked to stop."

"Tell Dr. Molina I took her the rest of the way. He’s in excellent hands, I promise."

“Edythe, he’s huge. Are you sure you don’t want some help?”

“I think I got this.” I feel myself being pulled onto Edythe’s back, my legs just hanging behind her like a veil train. She grunts, coldness hitting my chest. “I don’t got this.” She sets me back down, and I groan.

“Get a wagon…” I mutter.

“What’s gonna work?” Angel leads. I feel his hands grasp my ankles as Edythe lifts my upper body. If I were able to think without wanting to hurl, I’d congratulate her on actually seeming human.

"Nooo..." My grumbled protests are met with a vanishing sidewalk and the feeling of my body hanging in the air. I open my eyes, looking up at Edythe’s face as she follows Angel’s lead to the nurses office. “I was fine on the concrete…”

"You look awful," she says, a brow raised. "You've got a stick in your hair."

"It's a new fashion statement." I grunt, closing my eyes again. "Please walk slower... my stomach."

Their pace changes instantly.

"So, blood makes you faint? And it wasn't even your own. _Wow_." The idea seems to entertain her, and I bite my tongue in both ways to keep from losing my lunch on her face. Though at the moment, the idea is funny.

Warmth brushes over us. Somehow, Angel opened the office door with his foot, which would be impressive if I weren't a rag-doll right now.

There's a soft gasp, and the secretary exclaims. "Oh, my!"

"He fainted during the blood typing lesson. Is the nurse in?" Edythe moves again, and the next sensation change is from her wintry body to the slight chill of a vinyl cot mattress – with my calves hanging over the edge. I open my eyes, spotting her, Angel, and the grandfatherly nurse standing by a medicine cabinet.

"There's always one," he says with a sage nod. Edythe, meanwhile, stifles a snicker. When he looks away to write on his board, I flip her off. "Just lay down for a while, bucko. It'll pass."

"Thank you," I sigh, nausea melting away.

“I’ll go let Dr. Molina know you made it safely. Thanks again, Edythe.” Angel says with a look of pure gratitude. “You’re a life saver.”

“It’s no problem at all, man. See ya later!”

Angel makes his way out the door, and the nurse starts tapping on his clipboard.

"Is this common for you?"

"Yeah... ever since I was a kid." She doesn't fight this snort down. “Some kind of vasovagal whatever. My dad wasn’t huge on getting me to the doctor, so it never got diagnosed. Same with my meat allergy, ‘til Mom showed up in Phoenix with a big iron on her hip.” I snicker at the stupid joke, my stomach doing flips.

“I see. Well, that explains why I don’t have notes on that. At least I can add them now. Miss Cullen, you can go back to class.”

"I was told to stay with him. It'll be alright. My sister taught me how to deal with this."

"I suppose... I have to go fill some forms for you," the nurse says to me with a soft smile. "I'll be right back." He bustles from the room, and Edythe leans against the wall, arms crossed.

"He doesn't trust me," she says in a sing-song way. "You gonna be okay?"

I groan, waving a hand. "You were right. Or, well, your sister was right. Ditching is healthy."

"Better than almost passing out...you scared me for a moment there." She rubs the back of her neck, eyes downcast. "I thought Angel was taking your corpse to the office. Hell, I've seen _actual_ corpses with more color than you."

"Ha..."

"I thought I'd have to don a trench coat and avenge your murder."

"You're so fucking weird, Edythe…”

"And Angel... I'm amazed that he let me help. He’s still on the fence about me. Though… you’ve been helping a lot with that."

"You can’t possibly know how he feels. He hasn’t said a sour word about you.” I retort.

"He doesn’t have to. Every time I sit by you, he’s afraid that I'll do something. He’s afraid of me, in a way." She laughs at that, but there's no trace of amusement. I look at her. “It honestly hurts a bit, since he always acts so nice at the table.”

"Edythe, he isn’t scared of you."

"Yes, he is." Her face falls, I can see her heart sinking to her shoes. “They _all_ are. Everyone but you, I think. I can only guess.” Maybe, in some weird way, she really knows how people feel about her. What they're thinking. That would make them ‘easy to read’. But then what makes me so different?

Actually...

"How did you see us? You said you were going home." I can breathe normally now, and I even sit up, with my back pressed firmly against the wall.

"I was listening to a CD in my car, letting the interior warm up a bit." Such a normal answer... it takes me off guard for a second.

The door swings open, and the nurse pokes his head in. "We've got another one," he looks at the two of us. "Mr. Swan, can you move?"

I hop off the cot and nod, still a little wobbly. Edythe's hand grasps mine tight, trembling slightly. I look down at her, and the panic in her dark eyes inform me of the situation before the scent reaches my nose.

I pull her out of the room, a sick smell wafting past us as we trade places with the nurse and the sick student. We let the door close behind us before looking at each other again.

"How did you...?"

"I smelled the blood," I try to cough the smell from my lungs. "And from your face, you could too. Figured I'd save us both the trouble." She pulls back, now eyeing me suspiciously. "What?"

" _People_ can't smell blood."

"Well, I can. I always have. It’s disgusting, it makes me ill. It smells like rust and salt."

She stares at me with an unfathomable expression.

"Edythe?"

"It's nothing...." She looks up expectantly, and Erica enters the office. She smiles, looking from me to Edythe, excited that I didn't die.

"You're alive! Thank goodness. Angel was so worried."

"I'll be okay, so long as I don't go back. I'd just have to U-turn."

"Haha! Well, you'll be happy to know that the bell rang. Last period is starting, and mine is in here."

"Final... gym. Dammit!"

Erica and Edythe exchange a look of sympathy before Erica excuses herself to her student council duties.

"Hey," Edythe leans down. "I can get you out of gym. Just sit over there and look pale." She points to the office couch and I nod. Easy said, easy done. I flop on a cushion, letting myself hang off the arm, eyes closed.

Two footfalls and a cleared throat later, Edythe gets the secretary's attention.

"Mr. Cope?"

"Yes?"

"Beau has gym this hour, but I don't think he’s quite up to snuff. Can you call Coach Clapp and let him know he’s going home early? I'll take him myself." Her voice, like melted honey, is enough to make my breath catch in my throat. And knowing her, those eyes must overwhelm the poor man. All without her meaning to, she could likely talk herself out of a death sentence.

"Do you need an excuse, too, Edythe?"

"No, I already have one. Thank you, though, Mr. Cope."

"Okay, consider it taken care of. You feel better soon, Beaumont!"

Charlie is waiting for us at the door, guiding me inside swiftly. I can only assume Mr. Cope called her when I left the nurse's office. she thanks Edythe before promptly locking the door in her face. I snicker quietly. My amusement vanishes when Charlie cups my cheeks.  
A familiar odor reaches my nose, and my stomach lurches.

"How're you feeling, Bo-boy? The guy said you were still pretty pale." In truth, I feel like I could lie down and not move for an hour. Which wouldn't be so bad, actually.

"I just want to go to bed... please, Ma."

"I've got you, honey." She takes me by the arm, and I cling to her, my head starting to spin again. I was fine, or so I thought. But something here has the faint copper-rust scent on it. That's when I notice the dark stain carefully hidden by Charlie's jacket, and my knees give out.

I don't hear her open my door, but I feel the softness of my comforter and relax instantly.

"I'll get you some water, you just rest, honey."

I'm asleep before she returns.

And I'm awakened by the sound of my window shutting.

" _Beau..._ oh, he’s asleep. Heh, cute." I hear Edythe walk around, her feet patting lightly on the wooden floor. As soon as I can move, I’m gonna hound her for calling me cute. Papers shuffle, her breathing catches. "He really does… doesn’t he realize the danger? ...but I can't stop him. Not now. Maybe I should go..."

Even with my stomach back in knots, I sit up and look at him with my sleepy eyes.

"Should I call the police?" I say in a whisper, instantly regretting opening my eyes. I groan and fall back. A cool hand guides me down to the pillows, robbing me of my dramatic effect. "Damn you..."

"Too late for that. What happened this time? I thought you were ready to run a marathon."

"Charlie... smells like blood."

"Well, she is a cop, I'm sure there was an accident or something." She plays it off like it's nothing. "I still can't believe you react this way."

"Blood is supposed to be _inside you_."

"Pfft, well, I can't argue with _that_ logic. But God, Beau, a pricked finger won't draw hardly anything."

"Shut up...." The bed creaks beside me, I can feel the cold from her body on my bare arm. I curl closer to her, and she lays her hand on my shoulder tenderly.

After a moment of silence, she sighs. "Sorry for uh... well, breaking in. I'm still not over how _dead_ you looked when I came across you." Her tone is somber again, and I finally recognize the hidden meaning in it. Embarrassment.

"Just don't do it again. Or at least knock. I could have been lying here naked for all you know."

"...."

"... Edythe?"

"What? Oh, sorry. Just enjoying the mental image."

"You ass."

"Only on Fridays."

We lay silent again. I tease the thought of reaching over and touching her face, stopping myself before the impulse hits my arm. Instead, Edythe reaches up and plays with the braid still hanging by my ear. I shiver, her fingers like ice.

“You have beautiful eyes... I never noticed.” She smiles, her dark eyes growing soft. “Like the sky after a storm.”

“And yours are like droplets of blood on fresh snow.”

“That’s pretty poetic for the man with a D in English.” She teases, prodding my chest. I stick my tongue out and gently push on her shoulder. She rolls off the bed, landing in the floor without a sound. “Now that was rude,” she accuses from the floor.

"Next is the window, babe." I stand and stretch, popping my back. I see Edythe, sitting with her legs crossed at the foot of my bed. She’s smiling, there’s a blush of pink on her cheeks. I lean forward and gently boop her on the nose.

"You get your weirdness from Charlie or your father?" She jokes, tilting his head to the side. Weird to bring up my parents when this is supposed to be _her_ interrogation. But it isn’t like we both don’t already know the truth. I play along.

"Neither. I cultivated it all on my own." I walk around, grabbing my backpack to take the books out and organize what homework I gathered during the day. For once. Edythe follows, her hands behind her back.

"So, what is your father like?"

"He’s … nice." That's just cheating. "Eccentric. He’s got this weird sense of humor, and a strong sense of what’s right and wrong. He’s got eclectic interests, and a lot of expectations for his only child. Some that are pretty hard to reach, but that’s another story."

"He sounds interesting." I glance away, and she narrows her eyes. There is a solid minute of silence before she speaks again. " And... how old are you, Beau?"

"Eighteen. Why? Is my baby-face that bad?"

"N-no, it's not that. You don't even _have a_ baby-face. It's just... you don't seem eighteen is all. Though that is older than I expected." She says something under his voice, his lips scowling for a split second.

"You're not the first person to say that. My dad used to joke that I was older than him, but that's just because I'm usually quiet. Keep to myself. I prefer it that way." I settle in my desk chair, my fingers toying with a pen.

"And... why do you think he married Philippa?"

"I can't believe you remember her... Okay, if I'm older than 18, then he is younger than 37. He felt things were getting dull, and Philippa is what he needs. She’s a little younger than him, and her adventurous attitude pulled him from a bit of a depression. It makes me glad that he’s found someone."

"Do you approve?" she asks, leaning against the desk.

"I don't need to. He’s my father, he knows what's best for him. Besides, it's his life, not mine. He doesn’t need my approval."

"That's awfully generous. I wonder... would he extend the same courtesy to you? No matter who you wound up with?"

"Probably. I mean, he has set hard limits for me in other ways, but never mentioned dating. I don’t think he ever saw me dating. Might have a conniption if I bring home, like, a felon.”

"No one too scary then," she hisses, looking away. "Damn."

"Depends on your definition of scary, I guess."

"Think I could be scary?" She stares at me, a brow raised, and her lip curled into a faint smile.

"If you wanted to, but you'd have to practice. You're as terrifying as a box of kittens."

"Is that so?" Her face goes blank, every feature rock hard, and serious. She crouches, crawling forward until her nose an inch from mine. A feeling in my gut tells me not to test the girl who can lift vans. I enjoy ignoring that feeling.

“Indeed,” I lean in, my eyes lingering on her lips. “It’s my turn to ask questions.”

"What do you want to know?" She speaks slowly, cautiously, sitting back on her heels.

"Are you related to Dr. Cullen?”

"No."

"So why do you all say she's your sister?"

"She... feels like one. At least for Jasmine and I. For the others, she's more of a maternal figure. She took us all in at our worst times."

"Are any of you related? In any way?"

"If we share any ancestry, it's millennia back."

"And your—" I hesitate for a moment, thinking about how sore this subject may be, and ask anyway, like an idiot, "your real parents?"

"They died many years ago." Her tone is matter-of-fact, her face flat. This subject is nothing to her. At least, not anymore. "Illness; nearly killed me too."

"I'm so sorry..."

"It's alright. I really don't remember them, to be honest. Too far back for my brain to keep."

"Oh? How far?" She smirks, biting her lip in consideration.

"Longer than I want to say."

"I'm guessing you were a little kid, then." She shakes her head.

"Sometimes I wish it was back then, my life would be drastically different. I may be under a proper headstone, if so." Edythe's hands convulse. She raises one, watching it tremble like it isn't hers. "... but then I never would have met my new family, I never would have met _you_. Both would be tragedies in their own right."

Good grief, Edythe. So melodramatic, and yet... I feel the same way.

"Why can't you tell me what you are?" I cut to the chase, not wanting to delay with mundane questions any further. Edythe opens his mouth, then closes it. She rubs her neck, eyes closed tight.

"Because... I'm not allowed."

"You said that before. Why aren't you allowed?"

"I don't really know. At least, not the actual reasons. It's just what I was told, a long time ago, and it stuck with me. You don't tell humans, they cannot know. They don't _matter_." She hisses through her teeth. "Frankly, I just want to grab you by the shirt and scream it at the top of my lungs. But this habit is impossible for me to break."

"... but you admit that..." Oh God, I’m finally going to say it! "You are _not_ human? At all. Just you."

Edythe takes a breath and nods. “I'm not. None of us are. Not Clarice, not Roland, not Emma. No one. But you already knew that, didn't you? You’ve got it all in that strange brain of yours, locked up beyond my reach. Such a strange man.” She reaches over, pushing a lock of hair from my face. “What are you doing to me?” I close my eyes, hoping. But when they open, she’s gone — my window is wide open, the curtains billowing in the breeze.

_God damnit!_


	7. The Boy from La Push

I stare up at my ceiling, mind blank, quiet music playing in the background. I want to relax, maybe get my work done. But after what I just saw it's impossible. I look out the window again, at my truck just sitting in the driveway. The truck Charlie and I left at the school when Edythe brought me home. My loud as a bomb truck.

There is absolutely _no way_ Edythe could have gotten it here without me hearing it. Not a single way! That engine can be heard nationwide. I rub my eyes, blowing raspberries. The impossible dream is definitely reality. I have her own admission.

Edythe Cullen isn't human.

As soon as I get to school, people from Bio are making fainting comments. Even a handful of Freshman crack a joke in my direction. Jesse and Angel stand by my side during the class changes, glaring daggers at anyone who even snickers near us. That gives me a bit of a boost, and helps me get to Trig.

Then Jesse smiles at me, and I remember that I am trapped with him for half an hour. Heaven help me.

"So, what did you and Edythe talk about yesterday?" He asks, leaning closer during our free time. I tap my pencil against the paper, trying to figure out the formula used to create the way-too complicated graph in the book.

"Just to talk. We joked, we goofed, we talked about Bio class. Then we parted ways."

"You looked kinda annoyed, though."

"Yeah, she can do that sometimes," I click my tongue and turn the page. "But, so can all girls. All people. Besides, I rather enjoyed my time with her."

"Good point. God, this is all so weird. She's attached herself to you since the van incident. Before now she never sat with anyone but her family."

A family she isn't at all related to.

"I don't mind it. I uh... I _like_ her, you know." Jesse leans in tighter, and I force a subject change. "Besides, you'd know all this if you talked to her more."

" _What_? Talk to Edythe Cullen? Why the hell would I do that?" I shrug.

"Beats watching her from the other side of the table. At least then you'd know something about her." He seems a little miffed at that. With a bounce of his dark curls, he suddenly decides his own class work was more important that whispering about Edythe with me. I feel a pang of guilt for dodging his questions like bullets, but there isn't much I can say without weirding him out. Or getting myself teased over a little crush.

Jesse chatters all the way to lunch, mentioning how good the weather is going to be this weekend and how he and Angel were talking about La Push. But then we enter the cafeteria, and he stops in place.

"Jess, you okay?"

"Look at our table... _tables_."

I hesitate, but I look. Erica, Angel, a handful of kids who sit too far away for me to remember their names, Edythe, and the other Cullens. Wait... the _other Cullens?!_

"There he _is_! Edythe, say hi!" Alex's voice cuts through the mundane chatter of the lunchroom. He's leaned over the table, flicking her forehead repeatedly, much to the amusement of Emma, who is either taking pictures or videoing it on her phone. I look at the space in front of Alex — none of the Cullens have food. Just massive, black water bottles.

Jesse drags me to get our lunches. By the time I get to my place beside Edythe, I think Alex has flicked a dent into her forehead. I glance at her face and have to choke down a snort. God, the amount of anger in those furrowed brows is almost tangible. She tilts her head up and grabs his wrist. Alex, to no one's surprise, giggles.

"Alex, I'm trying to focus here." Her eyes narrow for a second and then grow wide, a pink tinge kissing her cheeks. "... I swear to God, Alex..."

"Well, _excuse me_ for thinking you should greet your friend, Edie!" He plops back in his seat, adjusting his empty-framed glasses and wagging a brow.

"Don't worry about it," Jesse pipes up, his eyes locked on Alex. "We're used to Edythe being the silent judge of the lunch table."

"Pfft, silent judge... I like the sound of that." Edythe snorts, giving Jesse a nod of approval. "Most accurate nickname I've had in a while."

"Oh, come on," everyone turns to Emma, "Cougar is tough as Hell!" Jasmine is struggling not to laugh, her shoulders hopping quickly.

"The connotation of such a nickname is _shameful_ , Emma, and you know it."

During the rest of the period, the only Cullens who don't somehow include themselves in conversation are Edythe and Roland. Now Edythe I'm used to, but Roland... something about the way he continually watched me. It isn't angry or with hate; it was... almost curious. Like he's waiting for something to happen, and that I'll cause it.

Do they know that I know? And if they do, are they expecting me to drop the bomb at any second? Well, this is one time I am _glad_ to disappoint.

Charlie takes us to a small diner to eat, her smile a little too wide for her normal self. As we eat, her foot taps at 100 miles-per-hour, and she keeps checking the neon clock on the wall every ten seconds. It's enough to drive the waiter crazy. I wonder, with a mouth full of mac-n-cheese, just what has got her on such an edge. Heh, maybe she's figuring out how to punish me for the detention I had. Half-way done with her burger, Charlie speaks.

"Clarice Cullen called me earlier. Said that her kids have pretty well fallen in love with you."

"I... what?"

"Well, that's how I took it, anyway." She shrugs before continuing. "It took Edythe forever to convince them to sit at your table, apparently. I know neither of you are very social, but according to Alex — who is very loud and loves interrupting Clarice's phone calls — he, Jasmine, and even Emma are just crazy about you and your group of friends as his aunt is. Well, maybe not quite as much as Edythe."

"Oh, wow."

"What got me was that _Roland_ spoke up in your favor. Every time I've gotten near that boy, he clams up and closes himself off... I don't know if he's shy or anxious or if... if something happened to him, but from Clarice's surprised reaction, you must've done something spectacular."

The only thing I can remember doing was eating my tater tots and not speaking very much. I guess that's a good thing in the mind of Roland Hale. Maybe Monday will clear things up.

"I remember when the family first moved here. The eldest girl, Jasmine, spent most of her free time volunteering with me at the middle and elementary schools. Jasmine has this strange way with kids — keeps them quiet and awake through everything." That's odd. I remember how I was at that age. Puberty was hell, and so was being around hormonal tweens. Growing bodies and changes in sleep needs meant everyone was napping during and between classes, especially at lunch. It's a part of development. Never once was anyone fully awake and focused.

I wonder how she does that.

"And as for your uh... sleeping in class." I knew she wouldn't forget. "Strike two, young man. Anymore detentions and you lose, uh... your cell. Wait... shit, you need that when you're at school... and for Rene... and I can't take your computer, you definitely need that for school."

"Compromise — you ground me from going to La Push tomorrow with my friends." I hold my hands up in offering. "Seems like a fair trade to me. And that way I can give them a reason for not going."

"... you realize it _isn't_ a punishment if you didn't want to go anyway, Bo boy." She smirks and wags her fork at me. "Just for that, you've got no choice but to go to La Push now. If I catch you at home before sundown, I'll ground you to the living room for a week."

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did."

I want to sleep in today. I don't have to meet Angel at the school until two, and since I've got no choice but to go, having some extended alone time will give me the energy I need to survive. But an unusual brightness prevents any sleep. I glare at my window to see light streaming through.

Without thought, I run to the window and gape at the clear, blue sky. At the warm, welcoming sun. It seems strangely lower in the sky than in Phoenix. But it's there! I whoop and cling to the windowsill. I don't want to leave, for fear of the golden ball vanishing forever, but Mother Nature has other plans, and I have to run to the single bathroom before Charlie does. Miraculously, I beat her there, but only by a second. Pretty sure I just knocked her over... heh, oops.

The warmth that fills my cheeks through the Thing's windshield sends me to Rene's backyard, just lying in the grass and watching the clouds go by.

Next to Angel's little car is Taylor's newly fixed van. Watching everyone just hanging around it, I get the uncomfortable feeling that we're going to carpool. But then I notice a couple more girls running over with surfboards under their arms, and a bit of hope creeps in. Definitely too many people to cram in there safely. I park beside Angel and step out.

"Beau, hey!" Angel hugs me tight. "I'm so glad you could make it. You and Jess are gonna be riding with me, okay? The girls are taking Taylor's van."

"Sounds perfect," I say with relief, brushing off my shirt. Angel's eyes flick over me, looking strangely confused. "What, do I have a stain?"

"No, it's not that. I just figured you'd come in shorts or something. A torn up band shirt and some jeans are hardly beach clothes."

"You have your beach wardrobe, and I have mine." He laughs, waving Jesse over from the van.

"Fair enough. C'mon, let's get a head start. These dunces are spending an eternity eating Taylor's Twizzler stash."

I slide into the backseat, content to stare out the window while Angel drives. It's about a fifteen-minute ride, but with the gorgeous forest enveloping and the Quillayute River snaking under us, it feels like an eternity.

An eternity I don't want to end. We pass the sign to La Push and a handful of memories flood back to me. Splashing along the shoreline, watching Billie make a canoe by hand, watching the other kids play out the Quileute legends just for fun... God, I've missed this place.

Once we shift into park, the boys bolt toward the ocean, shouting and laughing right before two big splashes hit my ears. I look along the crescent sandbar, watching the girls start a little base camp close to where Angel has poured water on Jesse's head. Even in the sunlight, the water is a muddled gray, foam-capped and heaving on the rocky shore. In the distance, islands reach for the stars, breaking up the gray sky with dark shocks of their fir claws.

Along the thin sand border, toward the water's edge, smooth stones in vast colors stretch the entire beach, quickly becoming the background of too many selfies and gasps of awe. I narrow my eyes at the people who are disobeying the tribe's wishes for La Push not to be photographed, and they nervously skitter away. One and only benefit of being a freak.

I walk along the stones, watching the seafoam green and robin's egg blue marble in with bone white and terracotta, my red shoes cutting through the earthen colors like a knife. All around I can see driftwood trees, some in piles and some by their lonesome, no doubt thousands of years old, that now call First Beach their last resting place.

I spot a cluster of clouds eerily creeping in from the west, but at this point I don't think even a thunderstorm could pull me away

Erica waves me over, pointing the little pyramid of driftwood sticks she and a couple others made in a small, portable fire pit. I walk over, catching her little giggles and excitement from ten feet away. She whistles to Taylor, who tosses her one of those long-nosed lighters. His ease catching it is impressive.

"Quick question; you ever seen a driftwood flame?"

"I don't think so. Ma would always get wood from the Blacks when we came here, and they got it from the forest."

"Then you're gonna _love_ this!" She ignites the lighter and sets the newspaper on the wood aflame. A few seconds of weak crackles and the fire builds into something unexpected. I sit on a pulled over stone and stare at it, my mouth hanging open.

"It's purple! Is that from the sea salt?"

"Yeah, it is. Pretty, ain't it?" She lights one more piece, placing it where the fire hadn't yet caught, and then sits by me. "I uh... got a call from Michelle. You probably noticed she hasn't been around lately."

"I have, but I didn't want to mention it for —" we both glance at Jesse, who is sitting with the waves gently splashing his feet "— reasons. What did she have to say?"

"Well... she got uncomfortable when Edythe came to our table, but was going to let it go so she could keep talking to _you_." She lets out a strained chuckle, shrugging, "She hasn't shown interest in any boys at our school, but then you catch her eye, and you shut her down."

"Wait, so she blames _me_ for her not sitting with us?"

"You, and Edythe, and Jesse. Mostly the last two, since she seems to think they turned you against her." Erica shakes her head, eyes scrunched together. "Which, in my opinion, is utter bullshit. I'm sure she'll come around as soon as the salt runs out."

"Maybe. Though it'd be at a cost to her. For being such an ass, she's going to owe us all some pizza." We laugh for a minute, but it's not cheerful. I feel scummy. If it weren't for me, Michelle would still be in her friend group, and Edythe wouldn't be more needlessly disposed.

After a few minutes roasting marshmallows and telling ghost stories, a group of Quileute teens burst out of the surrounding forest, laughing and pushing each other playfully. Four girls wave over to us, settling around our fire before most of us get the chance to speak.

I cling to Angel, to his calm aura and preference for silence. We all eat, listen to the chatter, but I find myself comfortably lost in thought. Everything feels disjointed here. Like time is taking snapshots that come out either crystal clear or completely blurred. Single, Polaroid images etch into my brain. Like when Jacob Black removes his hood and sits beside Angel and me.

"I figured you'd call before dropping in on me, Beau."

"I figured you'd have more common sense than that, Jake." He feints a shot to the heart.

"Touché! So, how you liking the beach? Been a while since you've been here, hasn't it?"

"Feels like ages, but it's barely changed. Except maybe the driftwood. That always changes."

"So has the ocean, Beau." Jacob points out to the water, his bracelets making soft clicks. "You never see the same ocean, and you never see the same people."

"What, did your mom teach you how to be cryptic when she helped you master the man-bun?" I reach up and flick his poorly constructed knot of hair on his head. Jacob bats my hand away, sticking his tongue out.

"It's a topknot!" His friends cackle, pointing at him and falling over dramatically on the sand. "Go to hell, you two."

"Speaking of pairs, did your brothers come with you?" My memories of them revolve around SpongeBob and G. I. Joe fights. And even mild torture of said soldiers.

"Nah," Jacob shakes his head, scratching the back of her neck. "Rufus got a scholarship to Washington State, and Raphael married a Samoan surfer. He's holed up in Hawai'i with her now."

"Oh, wow. Married..." Jeez... Raphael my age, and he's already _married_? Man, I'm far behind some of the other guys. Though, he's probably been talking to the surfer girl for a while... wonder if Edythe's thought of marriage yet.

"So, uh ... how do you like the truck?"

"I fucking _love_ it! The Thing is awesome, it runs fantastic, and so smooth."

"Yeah, my only issue was how slow it is," he laughs. "I'm was so relieved when Charlie bought it. Mom wouldn't let me work on another vehicle with, what, _The Thing_ , sitting in our yard."

"Oh, cut it some slack, it's not that slow."

"Have you tried to go over sixty?"

"Well, no, but I haven't needed to."

"Good. Don't get into any races."

I snort, flicking his ear lightly. "Smartass. But hey, it does great in a collision," I hold a finger up, Jacob nodding.

"You got me there. I don't think a tank could take out that old monster, though. Maybe Superman or the Hulk." We laugh so hard we need a moment to catch our breath, the two girls from across the way looking over with pleased smiles. I guess Jacob isn't normally so social, or maybe to them his wrinkled nose and wide smile is cute. I'll never know, to me, he's already the little brother I've always wanted.

"So, you build cars?"

"When I have free time. And parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" he adds jokingly. I faux thinking, tapping my chin and letting out a little 'hum' of consideration.

"I don't even know what that is, but I'll keep an eye out anyway." He flashes a sweet, appreciative smile that is growing on me. It amazes me how easy it is to talk to him. I'm getting a slight sense of déjà vu. Though ... heh, at least it's just casual, and less butterfly-driven word vomit like with...

"You two know each other?" Angel asks, marshmallow fluff stuck to one of his cheeks. Jacob smiles, handing Angel a handkerchief from his pocket. "Oh, thank you."

"We've sort of known each other since I was born. He visited my house a lot during his younger years."

"Aww, how cute!" I roll my eyes, but don't force down the smile that his little giggles bring. After a second, he collects herself and gestures to the girls beside him. "I was just saying to Taylor that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn't anyone invite them?"

"You mean Dr. Clarice Cullen's family?" the tallest of the Quileute girls asks, looking a little tense. Jacob sighs softly, muttering under his breath. I don't like this.

"Uh-huh, they're good friends of ours. Well, Edythe is, the others have kinda migrated over." The girl shakes her head, eyes serious.

" _The Cullens don't come here_ ," she says in a tone that closed the subject. Then she clears her throat. "At least, not without reason." Angel pales and nods, turning his attention to Taylor and Erica. I stare at the girl, uneasy with confusion. She looks away from us, toward the forest across the way. The way she said that... it's like they aren't _allowed_ to come here. Holy shit, do the Quileute know?

"Forks driving you insane yet?" Jacob asks, almost glaring at his friends. His expression changes to happiness when he turns to me.

"Oh, I'd say that's an _understatement_." He grins understandingly. The girl's statement is still driving me crazy. I consider just asking outright what she meant by that, but my gut says that it is a bad move. Jacob lays his hand on my shoulder, opening up an opportunity.

"Do you want to walk down the beach with me?" He asks, nodding over to the shore. "I need to stretch my legs." We spring up without speaking, hands deep in our pockets.

As we walk north, across the multihued stones toward the driftwood wall, the clouds finally close ranks across the sky, causing the sea to darken and the temperature to drop. My first wish is for the sun to return. My second is for Jacob to explain what the deal with the Cullens is.

"So, you're, what, sixteen?" He asks, kicking a stone toward the water. It skips a couple feet, making us both freeze for a moment. "Holy shit, that was awesome."

"That it was. And no. I'm 18, way older than you."

"Wait, seriously? No way! I always thought you were closer to my age than Raph's."

"I'm short for my age."

"Oh ha-ha, very funny. I've seen Ents shorter than you!"

"I will kick you, and it will hurt."

"Okay, I'll retreat... I'm sorry about Sam. She's a little," he wiggles his hand, "meh when it comes to the Cullen family. I mean, she's right, they aren't _supposed_ to come on Quileute land, but I think everyone blows it out of proportion."

"Why not?" I prod, leaning in. He looks down at me and backs away a little.

"I'm really not supposed to talk about that..."

"You've been talking about it. And hey, cross my heart, I won't tell a soul." Jacob looks toward the group by the fire. He huffs and nods, lowering his voice.

"Do you like scary stories?" he asks ominously.

"I love them," I answer, with barely a lie to be detected.

Jacob strolls to a nearby driftwood tree that has its roots sticking out like the pale legs of a giant, dead spider. He perches on one of the twisted roots while I sit beneath him on the body of the tree. He stares down at the rocks, a smile hovering around the edges of his lips. Right away I can tell that he wants to set the mood for this. What. A. _Dork_.

"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from — the Quileute, I mean?" she starts. I think for a moment, faintly recalling a carving Billie showed me when telling the origin of the Quileute.

"I think Billie mentioned wolves."

"You're on the right track," he teases. "There are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Great Flood. The ancient Quileute tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive, like Noah and the ark for a quick comparison." He's smile grows, his face and voice showing his love for the tale he's weaving. "Another claims we descended directly from wolves — and that the wolves are our brothers still.

"But all the same, we have our enemies," his voice drops even further.

"Like?"

"The natural enemies of what you would call the werewolf. And there is only one creature that the werewolf despises even more than itself."

"Did you just say _werewolf_? As in 'becomes a wolf every full moon' werewolf?" I have to look panicked at this point, my eyes wide. Oh, no... oh noooooo. Don't you fucking say it, Jacob. I don't think I can take that.

"Supposedly. Now, I'm not saying we can turn into werewolves or just plain wolves or anything like that," he waves his hands in front of his face, dismissing the ridiculous idea, "but what I _do_ know is the wolf population of La Push has _never_ harmed our homes, businesses, or people. I cannot, however, confirm or deny the uh ... werewolf angle. What I _can_ say is that this is where the Cullen family comes in."

Jacob jumps down, sitting beside me. "See, when my great-grandfather was the chief, he would tell my mom of the Enemy of the Wolf, and how a pair of them once terrorized our reservation when he was a kid. When he was an adult, more showing up was enough to put the entire nation on edge. But according to him, this group was different. They would feed on the animals of the forest rather than the more _convenient_ humans of both the tribe and the nearby colonies."

This sounds too familiar, like a horror movie trope gone wrong... I've got mixed feelings about this.

"Because there is always a risk, though, they made a pact with him. Until the end of time, they would stay off all Quileute land, promise to keep our members protected, and make sure that no fights would occur without provocation."

"So... the _Cullens_ are related to these ancient enemies of the werewolf?"

He shakes his head. "See, that's where _I_ got confused too. They aren't descended or related to them. They are the _same people_."

"Christ, that'd be impossible. That's got to be at least a hundred years. But then again," Edythe's words return to me, and it comes out in a humorous trill before I can stop it, "they aren't human."

"Heh, what? Wait, do ... Beau, what do you know?" Jacob's voice is devoid of fun, his dark eyes wide and locked on me. "What—?"

"Is there any more to the story?" I interrupt, leaning in a little closer. "Please, Jake."

"Uh, y-yeah, a little. There are more of them now," he says, his voice cracking from tension, "a pair that appeared one day. But the rest are the same. My great-grandfather said their leader was Clarice, and that she was the one who helped create the treaty. She'd been here and gone before the colonizers stole our lands."

"And the Enemy of the Wolf ... what are they?"

"Isn't it obvious? Leeches, blood drinkers."

" _Vampires_." We say in unison. His expression shifts significantly, and I feel that I've perhaps made a bit of a mistake with this. Jacob's eyes narrow, and he slowly breathes in.

"You know, don't you? About them. About what they are." He chuckles, but there is no humor. Not in his laugh. Not in his face. We sit in silence for a moment before something pops up behind Jacob's eyes. "... was it weird? It was for me. Knowing that my babysitter was a blood drinker. Learning that the doctor that comes in to check on our clinic is older than this country. Finally understanding why they vanished when I was a kid. And then popped back up a couple years ago – unchanged. You never get used to it."

I stay silent. Jacob sighs.

"Well, I better get going. Your friends are yelling for you over there." He stands and squeezes my shoulder. "Whatever you've gotten into, stay safe, Beau."

"I will be, Jake. I love you, man."

"I love you too, Beau." He embraces me briefly, squeezing tight. Finally, someone who understands.

I pull up my hood and I tramp across the rocks toward the parking lot. A few drops fall, making black spots on the stone where they land. I crawl into Jesse's back seat, laying across it like a tired cat. Angel and Jesse chatter in the front seat, taking a picture of me when they figure I'm asleep. I slide my earbuds in, figuring the ride home is going to feel ten times longer than it really is. I take in a breath, and say it aloud for the first time.

"Edythe Cullen is a vampire."


	8. Part & Parcel

I stay on the front porch for a while after getting home, just sta1ring at the road, eyes barely following every car that rushes by. I have homework. I have responsibilities. But I can't move. I’m waiting. Because if Jacob Black, the son of my mother’s _girlfriend_ , knows the Cullens are vampires, then what is Charlie hiding from me? Did she know the whole time? Has she been _lying_ to me?

The light of Charlie's cruiser illuminates my still sandy sneakers, her footfalls hitting my ears like glass on stone. She sits beside me, not saying anything.

After a moment, she puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes.

"Billie and Clarice called me at the station. It seems like I owe you an explanation or two. Let's go in, we'll get some ice cream and talk it over."

"So you knew? The entire time?"

"I — inside, c'mon." I stand, ambling and with short steps. Charlie goes on ahead of me, talking to herself, throwing down a file on the dining table before going to the fridge. "Read the file. It’s about time for me to be straight with you.”

“I’d appreciate that, Ma.”

I sit at the table, hands shaking as I slowly open the two-inch-thick file marked **CASE FILE: ANIMALS** and examine the contents. I remember a few of these cases. We blamed them on bears because of the brutality of the kills, but... looking at the crime scene photos, I know that is a lie. There's no blood, no signs of struggle. The only thing to show that the deaths weren't just natural is the bodies. I set them all side-by-side, my mouth going dry.

Mummified. Drained of all fluids, the hair torn out in clumps, and entire chunks of their upper body torn out. I push the pictures away, staring at Charlie in horror as she sits across the table. She slides a bowl of chocolate ice cream to me and sighs.

"I reckon you have some questions for me, eh Beau?"

“You’ve known the whole time.”

"I've known since I was a kid. Clarice helped me survive a measles outbreak. I was five. Edythe was her co-worker. The only difference is the hairstyles and names they go by." Charlie weaves her fingers together, her body never relaxing. "I hoped you'd never find out. But, as Billie put it, your detective skills put Batman to shame."

"To my discredit, I never would have cared had Edythe not stopped me from being crushed by a van.”

"Yeah, she got chewed out for that. Ezra told me in full detail." Her lips curl up slightly, eyes locked on her hands. "Being a vampire, I'm sure she was just thinking about what would happen if all the uh... th-the blood got everywhere, but all the same, my baby's alive and I'll never be done thanking her for that."

"Aw, Mom..." I reach over and take her hand, squeezing gently. She shakes her head, leaving her hand in place. Charlie swallows hard and continues.

"Clarice Cullen was the first to confirm my suspicion when the men I knew as Doctors Micah Carlson and Edwina Glass just show up, pretending to be adopted sisters. I confronted them privately, but all I got was a _'who the fuck are you?'_ stare. About a week later, I get a call from Billie, explaining almost everything. But she left it to me to outright say the word."

"Vampire."

"Yeah... vampire. Since Clarice now found an ally within the system, we've been working together on these cases. We hide the C.O.D. from the community, rehydrate the corpses, and everyone in our corner of Washington goes on like nothing is wrong."

"The corner... so you don't just operate in Forks?"

"I wish... I wouldn't be gone quite so long if we did." She takes the files and pulls out a few documents, written by hand in the most chicken-scratch pen I've ever seen. I almost blame Charlie, before remembering her blocky, straight handwriting. "Clarice wrote these up after examining the corpses, telling me exactly who the vampire is and where they'd be going next."

"How could she know all that?"

"That I don't know. I don't dig, and they all appreciate that."

"Oh, alright..."

"Beau... did Jacob tell you the Cullens are vampires?"

"He didn't have to. I’ve known since the accident. Before then, I think. I-I was so excited for something magical to happen, I never even considered that…”

"Good, good. Billie just wanted to make sure the treaty hasn’t been broken. Though, knowing her and Clarice, they'll probably renegotiate it again, now that _two_ outsiders know the truth."

We sit for a while in silence, eating ice cream and staring into space. After about twenty minutes, Charlie takes both our bowls and goes to the sink. I’m ready to excuse myself to bed when she speaks.

“You and Edythe… there’s something between you two, isn’t there? Ezra, he’s good at picking up these things. Says Edythe’s been composing and been more chatty. And don’t think I haven’t heard you playing your bass late into the night. Are you two a thing now?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, if she wanted to… but she hasn’t made any moves. And I don’t think I _can_.”

“I get that. You just have to shake the butterflies out and do it. Just be careful. I don’t want my baby having a broken heart.” I walk over to her and kiss her cheek.

“I’ll be alright. Goodnight, Ma.”

“Sweet dreams, Bo boy. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I lock the door as soon as I close it. I hook myself up to my iPod, not even caring that my light is still on, and dive into the plush, purple comforter on my bed. I hit the Shuffle button and close my eyes tight. My heart beats to the bass line, and while the high volume I'm forcing on myself makes my ears want to bleed, it's worth it to hear the smooth singing and instrumentals.

It's not the most positive or uplifting song, but it's soothing enough to relax my electric nerves. I press the repeat button, not wanting this ease to be erased by a sudden jolt of heavy electric guitar. By the third play-through, I can lip-sync every word. I feel the sudden urge to jump out of bed and dance like an idiot. Instead, I lay a pillow over my face and concentrate on making the music the only thing in my brain.

It works. After twenty minutes, the only thing I can think of is the song. I hum along even as I fall into a deep sleep.

I open my eyes to a familiar place. I look around the murky, dark green forest of Forks, hearing water in the distance, smelling the salt deep in the air. My entire body shivers with want. If I find that ocean, I'll see the sun. Please, God, _please_ give me the sun! I race toward the sound, leaping over obstacles with ease. I can almost see the waves when Jacob Black appears at my side, grabbing my arm tight.

"Jake? What's wrong?" His face is equal parts frightened and infuriated as he pulls against my resistance. But I fight anyway, not caring if I get bruised or cut. I can't go back to the dark...

" _You have to run, Beau! You have to escape_!" He pleas with me, taking my hand in both of his.

" _This way, Beau!_ " Charlie appears at the very edge of the trees, waving Jacob and me over before scanning the area around us. I fight his grasp, desperate now to find the sun. " _Beau, please, come back!_ " My mom cries out.

"No!"

Jacob collapses, his entire body twitching and convulsing violently. I take a step back, gawking in horror. Black fur sprouts from his limbs, his clothes tear as his body grows to twice normal size. A massive, humanoid wolf pants from the ground, watching me with tear-filled brown eyes. He points toward the shore, toward the sun, growling weakly.

I follow Jacob's... finger. But whatever he’s pointing at is obscured by the light. I squint, moving closer.

" _Beau, run! Don't let her catch you!_ " Charlie cries out again from behind me. A rush of footfalls makes me freeze, and Charlie is beside me, her handgun aimed right at the person slowly emerging from the light. " _I said run, dammit!_ "

"What's going on? Who is that?"

" _Beau..._ " The shape whispers to me, holding its hand out. " _Come to me, trust me._ "

I take a step forward, spotting a golden-red gleam of hair. Edythe! I rush to her, wanting to see more. Charlie screams behind me and fires. The bullet whips past my head, striking the shape in the shoulder. She leans over, and that's when I realize my mistake.

Her long, blonde tangles do nothing to hide her razor-sharp, shark-like teeth from my view. Her eyes, cold and black as the void, stare up at me. With lust? With hunger? Her narrow face splits into a demonic smile. Oh fuck... she's only inches away now...

" _All mine..._ " She lunges at me.

My sudden movement makes my iPod crash on the wooden floor. I choke down the scream that threatens to vomit out, not wanting to frighten Charlie. I look around, trying to gather my bearings. The light in the room is dim but on, and I'm still fully dressed, shoes included. I glower at the clock on my dresser; _3:47 am_.

I fall back and roll onto my face, kicking off my shoes and setting my headphones beside me. I'm too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep. I roll back over and slide out of my jeans, hurling them to the floor beside my bed as I fight to stay horizontal. I can feel the braid in my hair, an uncomfortable ridge along the back of my skull, and I rip the band from its end, fluffing the hair out to the sides of my head. I flop the pillow back over my eyes.

It's all useless. My subconscious keeps replaying the images I've been trying so desperately to avoid. I'd face them either way at this point.

First things first, I sit up and try to think of various ways to distract myself. I grab my bathroom bag and take as long a shower as I can manage, and even then, it is too short for comfort. I blow dry my hair, file my nails down flat, and even take the time to shave my face and use anti-acne soap. Before I know it, I'm completely out of things to do in the small bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, I cross back to my room, startled by Charlie's snoring from the other end of the hall. That woman could wake the dead.

I dress slowly in my most comfy clothes and then make my bed. A complete waste of time, but that's the point. I can't put it off any longer. I open my laptop and turn it on, my eyes catching the analog clock on the wall. Almost five o'clock. Charlie will get up soon. I grab my headphones for some background music and check the screen. Every tab is something different — mind-reading, impossible speed, every box that Edythe checked off long before I finally said vampire.

Even now, with every confirmation I've had, just thinking the word shakes my core.

 _Vampire_.

Before I can think, I search for the cursed word. Everywhere I look there are fangirls squealing, Christians screaming, and art so smutty even a pornographer would turn pink. But after a bit of scrolling, I come across a site that seems promising. Vampires A-Z. My confirmation appears in the form of two quotes on the first page.

"The vampire is an outsider. He's the perfect metaphor for those things. He's someone who looks human and sounds human, but is not human, so he's always on the margins." — ANNE RICE, author of _Interview with a Vampire._

"But first, on earth as vampire sent,

Thy corpse shall from its tomb be rent,

Then ghastly haunt thy native place,

And suck the blood of all thy race;

There from thy daughter, sister, wife,

At midnight drain the stream of life;

Yet loathe the banquet which perforce

Must feed thy livid living corpse." — LORD BYRON, _The Giaour_

The site is littered with various vampire myths from around the world, alphabetized and ready for clicking. I skim through the descriptions, noting the more unusual myths like the Danag and Jiangshi for leisure reading later. From what I read, a lot of them centered on demonizing sexual women, and having them eat children to prove how evil they are. I pass them by, looking for anything that sounds familiar.

Only three entries really catch my attention: the Romanian Varacolaci, a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, and the Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight. And one other, but they define it in one statement.

_Stregoni Benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires._

I write everything that lines up with my observations, only getting frustrated at the final note. All of them are marked as having a fang, and as far as I know, every Cullen has human-like teeth. But everything else... beauty, ghastly pale skin, strange eye colors. Then Jacob's criteria: enemy of the werewolf, cold skin, immortal, blood drinker. I mean sure, I've no proof of my own that they are immortal, or that they drink blood, but considering Charlie herself said they are, but there is one detail that matches nothing, from myth, movie, or truth. I bite my lip and groan, rubbing my temples.

Vampires cannot come out in the daylight; they turn to _ash_. Yet I've seen all of them outside during the day without so much as sunglasses or hoods on for protection. They're supposed to sleep during the day, in coffins.

Aggravated, I close the computer and pull out my headphones, my eyes sore from the strain.

Through my irritation, I'm flooded with overwhelming embarrassment. What else don’t I know about? If vampires are real, then maybe the werewolves Jacob mentioned are too. What other myth is real then? Mermaids? Bigfoot? _Aliens?!_ It's all too much.

That's it. I've got to get out of the house.

I strip, pulling on some jeans and a flannel, not caring about an undershirt, or looking at all presentable. I trudge down the stairs in my hiking boots, buttoning my shirt as I go. I look at the dimly lit outside through the living room window, the scent of frying eggs hitting my nose. I look to the kitchen. Charlie is leaned over the stove-top, humming softly with two plates on the counter beside her.

"Up already? I was about to come a-knockin'. Breakfast?" She smiles at me, still in her pjs. She looks me over, no doubt noticing how bedraggled I look, but says nothing.

"Sounds great, but uh... I thought you and Billie were going fishing today. You know, before the whole... meeting thing."

"Oh, we are, but the overcast is a telltale sign of rain. Shocking, I know. We’re waiting until the showers were over to go. The fish ain't going anywhere." Knowing this to be true, I slide onto my chair, a glass of apple juice ready for me and a fork to my right.

She was ready for a while. I guess she didn't get any sleep either.

Charlie plates the food from the stove, setting mine in front of me and hers across the small table. We stay silent, the only sound is our chewing and the occasional gulp from our drinks. We've finished eating and cleaned up by the time the rain stops. Charlie kisses my forehead before changing and heading off with Billie. There's just something about how she smiles when even thinking about her... it's wonderful. I wait about twenty minutes before going outside myself, not wanting her to suspect anything. But knowing them, I'll be back _long_ before she will.

I walk east, ignoring my truck and the puddles of mud all the way across the yard. The tree line watches me break its apparent impenetrable barrier, and before long I'm deep enough for no sign of civilization to meet my gaze. All I hear is the squish of the supersaturated earth beneath my boots and the random cries of the jays.

I stay along the thin ribbon of trail. I won't take the risk of just walking without a guide. Even without the vampire factor, being lost in the forest is not ideal. And I can just see myself eternally wandering these trees long after my corpse has become dust... The trail winds deeper and deeper into the forest, snaking around spruces and hemlocks. I'm only vaguely aware of the surrounding trees, my eyes stay trained on my feet and the path, the barely noticeable ones that went in other directions.

There are many I don't know, and others I can't be sure about because they are covered in green blankets.

I follow the trail as long as my fear and annoyance allow me. As it ebbs, I slow to a stop. A few drops of moisture trickle down from the canopy, but I can't tell if it's the beginning of another sprinkling or just pooled water finally freed from the leaves. A recently fallen tree, the only fallen log not blanketed in moss, lays against the trunk of one of her sisters, creating a sheltered little bench just a few safe feet off the trail. I step over the ferns and sit carefully, leaning, resting my head on the living tree.

Everything around lulls me into a calm, the green reminding me of my nightmare that... honestly feels more like a premonition. It should horrify me, they all should, but the strange sense of familiarity only makes me breathe in deeper. After all, I remind myself, it isn’t the first time I’ve had a dream come true…

I close my eyes and listen to the enveloping silence, the knowledge that I am in complete solitude. I whisper the word softly, like a mantra. Vampire. _Vampire_. It tastes like copper; it tastes like fear. It's addictive. The confirmation, the sense of the forbidden. It's total euphoria every time I even think about it. Every time I think of Edythe...

I think on Edythe’s words, about how I’m hard to read. And then it hits me. Like a brick of “NO SHIT” crashing my nose into my skull. Like, what if she can't read my mind? Her mind reading is such an obvious fact, but what makes me different? I touch the side of my head, remembering the buzz that would flood my head when she looks at me. Maybe it isn't a buzz.

Maybe it's her trying to get inside. What's keeping her out?

"Something’s wrong with _me_ …” I say to no one, opening my eyes. There is a faint flash in the distance, a humanoid body vanishing from my sight in a blink. Oh God, I'm not alone. I stand and rush back home, not wanting to tease the thought of being watched anymore.

I sleep dreamless, exhaustion making sleep start and end within apparent seconds of each other. As I get ready for another day, I notice the sunlight is much brighter than even than yesterday. I look out, gasping at the sight of blue sky and clouds so sparse and puffy there is no way they can hold water. I finish dressing with a bounce to my step, finally breaking out some shorts and a regular t-shirt to bask in the rays.

I scare Charlie when I slide down the stair rail. Though I don't think it helped that she is my cushion instead of the floor.

"Um, ow?"

"Sorry, Ma!" I rush to my feet, backing away to straighten my bag. "I'm just... so thrilled right now."

"A little sunlight, and my son leave the house looking like Nathan Drake. All you need is a haircut."

"Not gonna happen.” I pull a hair tie from my pocket and go to business. Charlie smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners. For a moment, I can see the woman Rene rushed into marriage with almost twenty years ago. Her wild, brown curls, the softer edge to her square face. Even when my vision comes back to her grays and wrinkles, the youth is still there.

I eat breakfast cheerily, watching the dust moats stirring in the sunlight that stream in the back window and the crumbs that gather on Charlie’s cheeks.

After a lot of grunting and cursing at the sky, I finally get The Thing's windows rolled down about half-way. I don't go any further. If the rain sneaks up on me, I don't want the interior to flood. I'm one of the first arrivals at school. In my excitement to be in the sun, I didn't think to look at the clock. Well, at least I'll get some alone time. I lay on one of the outdoor benches, humming to myself as I watch the clouds float by.

"Beau!" Jesse's unmistakable voice cuts through the bird calls. I turn to see that the school's population has grown since I arrived, with a mini dress code of shorts and light color shirts the majority seem to follow. And Jess is no different, rushing to me in a lavender polo and khaki shorts.

_Oh. My. God._

"Hey," I wave, unable to be half-hearted on a morning like this. He sits on the tabletop, looking down at me with a laugh. "Mock all you want; I know I'm pale."

"It's not that, Beau. Your hair has red in it. I like it. Give you some color.”

"There’s the backhand,” I tuck a stray lock behind my ear. "It's mostly in the sun. My hair keeps getting darker up here with all the clouds."

"I didn't know hair could do that. I guess you're happy with the turn of the weather."

"It's my kind of day." We both laugh and I look back at the sparse puffs of white in the sky.

"You finish that _Macbeth_ essay yet?"

"Finished it yesterday. You can come over if you like. I'll give you some pointers."

"Mine's nearly there, I just hope Thursday takes its time getting here."

"Uh, Jess ... it's due Wednesday."

"What? Oh, shit!" He pulls his laptop out of his bag, eyes dancing across the screen in a panic. "Okay, I'm good. Only four pages to go, I got this. I'll finish it tomorrow."

"Why not tonight?"

"Well, I wanted to go to Port Angeles to go shopping after school. The dance is this Saturday."

"Aah, I get that. Hey, can I come?"

"You want to shop for dress clothes?" She squints, looking me over suspiciously. "Beau, you're wearing a ratty Nirvana shirt and torn shorts."

"I didn't mean for me," I stick my tongue out. "I'm not the best at fashion, but I could be your test subject. Letcha know which is too gaudy, which is too bright, which one makes your ass look good."

“I actually wouldn’t mind that.”

"Exactly, Jess. Who better to judge asses than the dude who doesn’t have one?" I playfully look over my shoulder, and he laughs, covering his mouth with his hand. After more talking, we're joined by Angel and Erica, who acts rather relaxed for a short girl with Taylor attached to her back. It's right before the bell rings for homeroom, I notice we're missing a few people.

"Hey, don't even look," Angel whispers, waiting behind a bit. "The Cullen kids never come on bright days. The doctor takes them hiking. They'll be back once the clouds return. Kinda weird, isn't it?" He gives a slight nod before rushing back to Erica's side.

"So much for keeping it secret..." I mumble, wondering how no one else in town has caught on yet. I mean _really_ , just vanishing when the sun is fully out? That screams vampire! I might have to pelt them all with hoodies at this rate.

The rest of the day passes slowly. The classes seem to drone endlessly, and in gym I'm pulverized by a shuttlecock somehow. The bruises almost make me regret wearing short sleeves. I text Charlie, wanting her OK before taking off with Jesse for the evening. His reply is fairly predictable. Three poop emojis, a thumbs up, and a smiley face.

I am going to pulverize whoever introduced her to emojis.

I slide into the back of Jesse's car without thinking, laying across the back seat like I own it. He laughs, rolling down my window so I can stick my feet out.

"How is it I get stuck with the grunge guy as a dress clothes judge?”

"Just lucky, I guess. Oh, hey Angel!" Angel rolls his eyes at me and hops in the passenger seat, turning around to take my picture. I flip the camera off, earning a couple giggles. "Alright, it's officially a threesome." I wink.

" _BEAU_!" Angel doubles over, wiping tears from his eyes.

The humor is the only way I can cover the anxiety that's been building in my stomach all day. It's so relieving to get out of Forks. Now I can stop looking around for the shape in my dreams or Edythe creeping around every corner. In Port Angeles, I can be undistracted and be as good a suit judge as I can manage.

And if I have time to thrift some new clothes or books for myself, I'll take it. My excitement increases with every foot we advance beyond the town limits.


	9. The Hand of Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Attempted/referenced sexual assault and murder.

Jesse drives faster than Charlie could even dream of, getting us to Port Angeles by four. My first "Guy’s Night Out" is going about how I expected it. Head banging to Jesse's CD collection, chatting about college and the future. I put in my two cents about Angel applying for a librarian job — which would be perfect for him — and got a bit of a shock when Jesse said he’d gotten a job at Newton's Outlet.

"You really want to be stuck with Michelle every day after school?" I ask, sitting up.

"Well, no... not really, no. But our moms are good friends, and it pays pretty well. Like, ten bucks an hour. Better than McDonald's or something."

"Yeah, true. Oh hey, there's the sign!"

" **Welcome to Port Angeles!** ", a beautiful little tourist trap, more polished than Forks, with the Small-Town vibe that most places would kill for. I look around the unfamiliar landscape, the cheerful people, the old buildings mixed in with fresh signs and structures. It doesn't take long for Jesse to find the department store — apparently, he knows the town well.

The dress clothes selection isn't large, but that doesn't matter to Master Shopper Jesse, who manages to fill an entire rack with clothes for him and Angel to try on. Judging by the length of a few shirts, which would even suit _my_ torso, I think he’s more focused on Angel than himself. I settle on a stool beside the three-fold mirror, my legs bowing from the short distance to the ground.

Jesse wastes no time posing for me in the various suits he creates, laughing and smiling the entire time. All he needs is a crown and he’ll look like the prince he obviously feels like. But instead of finding that, I find a silky pink shirt with crystals along the lapel. Somewhat feminine, but the moment I show it to Jesse, his jaw drops.

"Oh my God, Beau it's perfect!" He grabs it and whoops. "Oh, Taylor is gonna be so shocked."

"Taylor?" I blink, looking at him in surprise.

"Uh yeah. After Michelle rejected me, Taylor came right up to me and asked instead. Only as a friend, though. We'll do the Cupid Shuffle, drink some punch, it'll be fun!" I'm not sure I believe him, but just the idea of going to the dance with someone, rather than alone, seems to thrill him. "I just wish you'd be there, Beau. You may like it."

"Yeah, no. People with two-foot feet don't dance."

"Speaking of feet, I found the shoes!" Angel's voice calls from a few aisles away. Jesse grabs me by the wrist, and we run over to all the well-shined loafers that make my heels hurt just by looking at them. The guys gravitate to their own preferences, and while I'm glad Angel found the _perfect_ pair of white loafers, I'll never understand why Jesse in all his Hobbit existence got shoes with heel _and_ a lifting insole.

Never.

It doesn't take half as long as I expected for them to have their clothes and accessories picked, sized, and paid for. I check my phone for the time — snorting at a text from Charlie that comprises a cat video and her asking if I'd remembered my pepper spray.

Actually, that's a good question. I pat my pockets down, earning a snicker from the others. Er... well, what Charlie doesn't know won't hurt her. Besides, who’d target an Ent?

"Hey, look over there," my head jerks up, my eyes wide. I look around, realizing that we had left the store behind and were halfway down the boardwalk. This is... not my best moment, admittedly. I follow Jesse's excited point, his arm crossing my chest. "My aunt owns that bookstore."

"You have an aunt?" I ask stupidly.

"Yeah, though my parents don't really claim her. You'll see why. C'mon!" He runs faster than one would expect someone as small as him to go, especially with his arms loaded down with bags. Angel bounds to keep up, clutching his bag to his chest. By the time I catch up with the pair, I'm panting, my tongue hanging out like a dog's.

The bookstore is not what I expected. The windows are full of crystals, crudely made God's Eyes, various ornaments with fairies and other figures crafted from metal, and the few books on display mention witchcraft and spell casting. But they are just a puddle compared to the vast ocean of tomes that stretch out along the walls. There are two figures inside, one with black hair down to their waist and a cane, and one behind a counter or desk. I hear the soft chime of Jesse opening the door and rush to his side.

"Aunt Row!"

"Jesse! Oh God, it's been far too long, lad." The woman from behind the counter vaults over and practically tackles Jesse, lifting him into the air. "Oh, you've shrunk."

"Rude! Row, these are my friends. Put me down, I'll introduce them." She laughs, setting him on his feet. I peak from over Angel’s head, wanting to get a good look at this new person. Her tan, her long, hair wild with the same chestnut waves Jesse boasts. Her dark eyes travel over Angel as Jesse introduces him, bags and wrinkles showing age. She locks on me before he has the chance to pull me forward, and a giant smile breaks on her face.

"Ah... Jesse, you didn't tell me you had a Gifted friend."

"I do?" Jesse looks at me and Angel, his eyes wide. "I didn't know that..." She clicks her tongue and runs back to her counter, whispering something to the other woman before disappearing amongst the tall, cluttered bookshelves and display tables.

"What does she mean?" Angel whispers to Jesse, sitting at one of the many armchairs that are scattered about.

"Well... my aunt is a little... she believes in all kinds of strange things. Fairies, wisps, vampires, witches. In fact, she _is_ one. A witch, I mean. It's why my dad doesn't talk to her." He sighs, setting his bags down and leaning against the wall. "She told me when I was little that some people have Gifts — with a capital 'G' — that make them predispositioned to supernatural occurrences."

"And one of us is capital-g Gifted?" Angel laughs quietly, shaking his head. "That sounds a little crazy to me, Jess."

"She’s _not_ crazy," Jesse snaps, curling upon himself. I bite my lip, various thoughts and experiences flashing through my brain. "She’s different, there's nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with being different..."

"I need to…" I start, but I'm interrupted by a sharp thunk beside us. His aunt has piled three books and a small box at the end table, her voice low. Talking to herself, she pulls a necklace from the box and holds it up. It radiates a brilliant multi-color light, smooth and round, tucked away in a copper bed.

"Rainbow Quartz can remove energy blocks, and allow Gifts to blossom." She looks at me, her smile wide with childish wonder. "And boy, you've got Gifts aplenty." She takes my hand in hers, surprising me with just how dry and rough they are, laying the crystal in my palm, closing my fingers around it.

I shake my head. "I-I don’t… you don’t understand, I can’t… I’m supposedto…" I try to give it back, but she tucks her hands in her pockets and tilts her head.

"Nope, I got the right one. A boy who evades all mental attacks is just who I was expecting." She picks up the books and pats them. "Books on telepathic powers, some basic crafting, what every budding witch needs."

“Ma’am, _please_. If my father finds out…”

"Aunt Row, are you sure about this...? His family may not approve." Jesse's worried face shows pain far beyond just the pagan aspects of all this. She just shakes her head and tenderly rubs Jesse's cheek.

"Sweetie, please, learn to trust me. And trust young Swan here," her eyes gleam with mischief as she addresses me with a name I've yet to even mention. I nearly drop the necklace in my shock, but to further my surprise it isn't in my hand anymore... I can feel its weight on my neck... I didn't put it on. Her hands were nowhere near me. No. No, no, no, _no._

"Beau...? Beau, you look sick." Angel stands, putting his hands on my shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"I-I don't...how did you… how did you know?" There’s movement in the distance, the woman at the counter. She approaches slowly, limping, with a white cane extended in front of her. There is a light tap from the cane. She is feeling around in front of her and I can hear a soft clicking coming from her mouth.

And then the familiar ice cold hits me.

"Vampire..." I shake my head, backing away from everyone, my hands in front of me protectively. "I’m sorry!”

"Beau, what the hell?" Jesse snaps at me, Angel covers his mouth in horror.

"Jess, I think something's wrong..."

I-I have to go... I have to...

I run from the bookstore. From the guys yelling after me. From the aunt who knows too much. From the vampire... God, how many of them have I missed in my life? How many people can tell I’m a _freak_ like she can? I rush past glass-fronted shops and vacant lots, losing the sound of their voices before too long. I wrap my arms around myself, noticing the lack of phone in my pocket, the quartz around my neck, and the possibility that I’m going to prison for running away and theft.

Fuck, what have I _done_?

It doesn't take long for me to realize I don't know where I am. There's up to no foot traffic, zero vehicles, and all around are rusty, dominant warehouses watching my every move. Lost. Way, way beyond lost. I freeze in place, searching for a landmark or sign to at least give me a hint.

Three men round a nearby corner, dressed in grimy jackets and ball caps, passing around a brown-bag covered bottle. As the distance closes between us, I realize in disgust that they aren't much older than I, joking among themselves and laughing while play-punching each other's arms. I side-stepped as close to the buildings as I can, giving them room so a collision won't occur.

"Hey, big guy!" one of them calls as they pass, his words slurring together. God, he means me... I'm the only person here. I turn away and ignore him, focusing on the trash can beside me. I hear it, the third pauses for a moment. One moves toward me, his stained t-shirt emitting the stench of sweat and booze.

I turn away and half-jog down the street, away from the warehouses and from their jeering. The walk turns to gravel, and I skid forward. I catch myself, but to my shock, it's a chain-link fence — padlocked. I turn to my left and right, looking for new ways to go. Buildings. Nothing but somber, abandoned buildings. I curse myself for leaving the shop, leaving the guys, leaving my damn _bag_. The sun slowly vanishes behind a cloud, and a disgustingly familiar voice calls from behind me.

"There you are!" His booming voice shatters the silence, the shards surrounding, practically glistening on the rock. In the gathering darkness, he seems much larger. Dangerous. He looks behind him and laughs. "Took you long enough."

"Yeah," a voice yells. I press myself against the fence. There's no exit, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. God, they herded me. "Just took a _liiitle_ detour. Tucked your brother in the truck."

"Ah, that lightweight can hear about it come morning." The other stands beside him, only feet away from me. I... I can't just stand here.

“What do you want?” I demand, voice trembling like a startled church mouse. They start laughing.

“Aww, don’t be that way. We just wanted to ask you some questions. Where you from? What’re ya doing here? What’s in your pockets?”

“I don’t have anything,” I answer honestly, turning out my pockets. Stand straight, Beau. Hold your ground. If you’re hunched, they’ll know you’re afraid. But they already know with how bad I’m shaking. I can’t glower at them like another teenager. They have a glimmer of experience in their eyes.

They know what they’re doing. I don’t. I’m out-manned, out-gunned, and unable to stop myself from falling backward onto my ass. The guy furthest away guffaws, holding his stomach.

“Man, what a fucking pussy! Are you scared, _little boy_?” He rushes me, and I step back, hoping to have plenty of room to dodge his lunge. My back slams on the fence, sending me to the ground flat on my ass. To them, this is hilarious. To me, this is a nightmare. One reaches and grabs me by the hair.

“How pathetic. Maybe we should man him up a bit, eh? Give him a shot of testosterone.” He gestures to his groin, and I breathe hard. Without thinking, I clench my hand into a fist and punch right where he’s pointing. It lands, causing him to double over in pain. His friend stops taunting me and sneers.

"Feisty, aren't you? I like a challenge." His friend pushes him aside, stomping forward. I curl back, fists raised, hoping to hit his knee. Or maybe his balls like the first one. "Come on, you know you can't win."

"Y-yes, I can…” I snap, an intense buzzing filling my skull. It races down my spine, tears through my arms. A hand grips my shirt, pulling me forward. I hear the cloth rip. "No!" I feel it force through my body, an electric shimmer blasts before my eyes, sending both men flying backward.

I'm suddenly blinded by what I can only assume are headlights. The car stops barely a foot away; the driver exiting and slamming the door so hard the entire vehicle shakes.

"Are you okay?" Edythe runs to me, her hands gently taking my shoulders, looking me over. After a second, she takes off her jacket and drapes it over me, wrapping the sleeves around my neck. I cling to it. She looks over her shoulder, a growl coming from her throat. She hugs me tight and strides toward them.

"What are you doing...?"

"Taking care of business. _Don't_ look, Beau." I squeeze my eyes shut, hands flat against my face to avoid even an accidental glimpse. But that doesn't stop me from hearing _everything_.

The men's screaming, the unholy roar that must be Edythe’s... the way their bones sound when she shatters them... one by one... the way their screams garble and gasp, like their mouths have filled with water. Or with... I cover my nose, trying not to gag from the smell.

" _Beau_..." I shiver, shaking my head. I can't look. I feel her hands guide me up, sickeningly warm to the touch. We saunter to her car, silent as the grave. I don't open my eyes until I know we're driving away from... the _scene_.

I look over at her. Her eyes are on fire, fixed on the road. Her skin a cool pink, her lips deep red. She didn't just kill them. She _ate_ them.

"How... are you feeling, Beau?" She asks after the temporary eternity.

"Dirty. And cold. And _sick_." I slide my knees to my chest, finally able to read her expression. Her face is a stark contrast to the flames in her eyes. She’s pained, horrified. "How did you find me?"

"Jesse called me, said you ran away. He didn't know I was up here already, but the coincidence turns out to be a good one." She chuckles, but there's no humor in it. "I just wish I'd pinpointed you sooner, could've prevented the whole _fucking_ thing."

"It's not your fault, Edythe"

"And it's not yours either." She is quick to tell me, turning to the well-lit streets. Things are looking familiar. I guess she's taking me back to Jesse and his aunt. That's good, I can get my bag and return the necklace. "What size shirt do you wear? I'll buy you a replacement for that one... if you want."

“Extra large, for the length. But it’s alright. Never really liked this shirt anyway.” She bites her lip, continually glancing over at me. “I’m not going to faint, you know.” I croak out, a stupid, fake grin on my face.

“Remember when I said you looked like a corpse that day at school? You look like snow now.”

“Yeah… yeah, I can imagine.”

She pulls over, putting the car in park. "... they're waiting for you inside, I'll honk so they come out." True to her word, she honks twice. It takes maybe a minute for the boys to appear at the passenger window, sobbing and asking me what happened.

I slide out of the car, my arms wrapped tightly around me. I feel Jesse's arms envelop me, his cheek presses against my chest. His anger has completely vanished, he’s just holding me. I lay my forehead on his and sigh.

"I'm sorry, Jesse... I don't know what came over me..." I lean back, taking the necklace off. "Here, this is your aunt’s."

"N-no, it's yours. Along with this," he holds up my backpack and a bag from the bookstore. "Gifts, for coming with Angel and me. And uh... for bearing the weirdness of my aunt Rowan." He glances at my torso. "What the fuck happened, man?"

"I'll tell you later, I don't think I can right now... thank you, for everything." I put the necklace back on, dumbfounded. "And again, I'm so, _so_ sorry."

"Hey, I'm just glad you're okay. But uh... ehe, I'm sorry too. Aunt Row got us pizza while you were gone." He backs away a bit, rubbing his arm. "There's some leftover, if you want it. Pepperoni."

“I can't eat meat, I'm vegetarian. But that's okay, I'll get something at home."

"Or," I turn around, watching as Edythe leans over to speak out of the passenger window, "third option — I take you somewhere to eat, and then home. The guys can head-on, you get something fresh, and I get to avoid Alex for a while longer. Everybody wins."

"You don't have to get me food, I promise I'm fine." She raises one brow and her eyes flick to my midsection. As if on cue, it rumbles loudly.

"Yeah, just humor me, Beau."

"Edythe's right, go with her." Jesse smiles, squeezing me one more time. "I'll text you tomorrow. Oh, and uh... check your phone, it kept vibrating and I don't know the passcode." He waves as he scurries off, taking Angel by the hand and leading him inside. I slide back into Edythe's car and pull my phone from my backpack.

Five missed calls. All from Charlie. _Shit_. I hit redial and pray she isn't angry.

"Beau! Oh my God, what happened? You never go silent on me. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Ma, I'm okay. I had an incident, but everything's alright now. I promise I'll explain when I get home."

"... alright. Okay. I trust you, honey. You still with the guys?"

"Well, no. I'm actually with Edythe. Cullen. Like I said, I'll explain at home. It'll be less awkward that way." She groans over the speaker. I can almost see her rubbing her temple in frustration. "Sorry, Ma..."

"Just don't get into any more trouble. I'll be waiting up on you. Love you, Bo boy."

"I love you too. See you later."

She takes ten minutes to find a restaurant. La Beau Italia, not exactly what I was expecting. Before I can ask why she picked here, she’s digging through the bags in the back seat and setting a red hoodie on my lap. And then, she’s waiting at the door, her crooked smile plastered on her face. I sigh and replace my tattered clothes with the somewhat tight shirt, catching up to her in a few strides. She stays right at my side as we approach the unoccupied host stand. I look around a bit.

It's not crowded, and pretty much everyone is sticking to the open bar. The host arrives after a couple minutes, a bubbly young woman whose neutral server look changes in a second to one of awe. We're welcomed a little more warmly than necessary, all her attention on the tall, unnaturally beautiful woman beside me. I have to swallow my snicker, knowing the host may be embarrassed by it.

"Table for two, please." Her voice is bouncy and soft. And her hands make careful fists by her hips. The host's eyes flicker to me for a split moment, then back to Edythe. I suppose we look like an odd couple. She nods and leads us to a table big enough for four, in the only part of the dining floor that has any form of population.

I go to sit, but Edythe's hand in mine stops me.

"Is there anywhere more... private?" She leans toward the woman’s ear, slipping a small wad of cash into the host's hand.

"Uh... yeah, sure." The host refuses the cash, leading us around a partition to an empty row of booths. Edythe leads me to the booth, letting me slide in first.

" _Perfect_. Thank you." Edythe gives the host a soft, sweet smile, and the host raises her hand to her chest. I don't think she realizes her impact on people. And if she does, then she’s a force to be reckoned with.

"Um" – she shakes her head, blinking – "your server will be right out." The host rushes away, failing at looking cool.

"You, madam, are evil." I say quietly, shaking my head at Edythe.

"It took you this long to accept that?"

"No, the effect you had on that poor chick." She snorts, tilting her head at me. "You can't be unaware of that."

"I'm aware of it, _trust me_." Her hands raise in annoyance. "I absolutely hate it."

"You don't seem to do much to stop yourself."

"Not much I can do, unfortunately..." She trails off, looking up.

Our server has arrived, his face expectant. The host _definitely_ gushed behind the scenes, and this man appears far from disappointed. He tucks a strand of short black hair behind one ear and smiles. Wait, that's no smile. Good Lord, he’s going to flirt. This'll be fun.

"Hello. My name is Ambrose, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?" As expected, he’s is focusing only on her. I smirk, giving her a wink. Edythe, meanwhile, is staring at her hands like her life depends on it. Then her ruby eyes flash to me, and she mirrors my sarcastic expression.

"I'll have whatever _he_ is having," she gives me a fake flirty smile. My heart races. _Oh you little shit._

"Oh, I think I'll stick with water for now." I lean forward, laying my hand on hers. Her body visibly relaxes, like this little ploy is more for her comfort me just being a dumbass. Our fingers lace together, her skin much warmer than I expected. My smirk becomes a genuine smile.

"I'll be right back with that," he looks over and me, his face morphing into confusion, and he trots away. She traces her finger over my palm. Then she coughs.

"You gonna let my hand go?"

“I’m not sure I want to.” I reply, sliding my hand into the hoodie pocket. “I suppose this is for Roland, or even Ezra?”

“Actually, it’s for me. But you can have it. Red suits you.”

“Edie, this would be huge on you.”

“Psh, Edie?” She snorts and shakes her head, her eyes fixated on my face. “How are you feeling?”

"... better. Cold, for obvious reasons. I think I’m in shock? I still can’t believe that even happened, and that I couldn’t… I dun — I dunno."

"At least you're talking. That's always a good sign." She bites her lip for a second, teeth skillfully hidden from view. "All the same, I'll feel better once you get some food in you."

Right on cue, the server appears with our drinks and a basket of breadsticks. He stands with his back to me as he sets them on the table. His butt is cute, but not exactly an ideal view.

"Are you ready to order?"

" _Beau_? she asks, adding an unneeded emphasis on my name. He turns unwillingly toward me.

If there's one thing I know about most Italian restaurants, the veggie-friendly meals are limited. I clear my throat. "Fettuccine Alfredo, please. No chicken, extra broccoli."

"And you?" He turns back to her with a smile.

"Nothing for me, please. I'm just here for him."

"Let me know if you change your mind." The coy smile is still in place, but she doesn't look at him, and he leaves dissatisfied.

I sip my water, almost gulping it down after thirst really kicks in. She holds her glass to her lips, watching as half my glass vanishes in that first drink. I shiver from the cold of the water and set the glass down.

"Still cold?"

"It's from the water, don't worry. I'll just do _this_ ," I pull my arms inside the hoodie, crossing them over my chest. I laugh, feeling like a 12-year-old as I stare at the protrusions. “Hehe, boobies.” Edythe rolls her eyes into her skull.

"I'm losing that shirt, aren't I?"

"Yes, yes you are. Though why would you wear this? It’s got to be a tunic on you. You’re what, 5’4?"

"Uh... like 5'8? I used to think I was decently tall, then Emmaline showed up." Edythe snorts and drinks more water. "Besides, everything seems tiny on you. You’re an American Goliath.”

"I prefer Jumbo-Sized."

She raises a brow. "Oh, do you?"

"Hey, I thought _I_ was the pervert in this pairing?” She takes a piece of bread and casually munches on it. I take one for myself, taking a chunk out. "I gotta ask... why somewhere so fancy? I figured we'd run through a Burger King or something."

"I had thought about that, but I figured you deserved a few minutes of stillness after all that _mess_." Edythe squints at the bread stick. "Garlic bread, oh the irony." My eyes trail up to hers, the red of her irises more luminous than I've ever seen.

"You know, contacts would be good if you want to keep your secret better. They were the first thing I noticed about you."

"You... heh, I'm not used to people paying attention to them. No one looks you in the eye when you're the weird girl in the corner. The others have their way of hiding it, but contacts don't work. For long, anyway." She raises a finger to her lips.

The server strides around the partition with my food. His struggle to place my plate makes me realize we've been leaning toward each other without noticing. I straighten up, giving him room. I pull the steaming dish toward me, my mouth practically gushing drool.

"Did you change your mind?" he asks Edythe, bobbing on his toes.

"No, thank you, but some more water would be nice." She gestures with a long hand to the empty cup in front of me.

"Of course, miss." He takes my glass and rushes away.

"What was the give away for you? The... van incident?"

"Pretty much, yes." I roll some noodles around my fork and take a bite. “If I were a man of reason and science, I would have dismissed said theory until I was blue in the face. But you see, I corrupted my highly scientific mind with caffeine, cartoons, and sugar from a young age – hence why I’m in my Junior year – so the romantic in me kinda jumped out thinking ‘This’ll be an adventure! A super cool girl who’s a _vampire_? Fuck yeah!’ I kinda used it as an excuse to get to know you better. And I got lucky, you’ve saved me twice.”

"Speaking of... when you tell this to Charlie — sorry, I couldn't help but overhear — please omit me _finishing off_ those men. No one at home realizes I still have a bit of a taste for human blood, and if Alex does, he isn't saying. So..."

"Hey, the least I owe you is some silence."

"I appreciate that. I-I’m also really touched. Not many guys want to get close to me, even without knowing my little secret.”

“Those guys are morons.” I state firmly.

The server returns with my water, placing it and leaving without a word. Again, I down most of the glass. Edythe chuckles, barely to the half-point of her own first glass.

"So, anything on your mind?" She leans over and taps the glass plate. I oblige the silent order with glee.

"Well," I swallow my bite, not really sure where to go with this. "Why are you in Port Angeles?"

She looks down, folding her hands together slowly on the table. "Clarice needed some errands ran, a stop at an old friend's house to pick up some books. They're in the trunk. Then I saw a clearance sale and thought ‘hoodies!’. I'd just loaded them when Jesse called me."

"Then I truly am a lucky man. Okay, next inquiry."

"Fun times."

"Can you actually read minds? You never admitted to it, but you've hinted."

"Yes, I can. In fact, I can read every mind in this room except one." She points right at me.

"I fucking called it.”

"Oh, believe me, it is frustrating. I was going to give you a read, decide how to interact with you. But it was like _static_. Like there was a wall in your brain. An incorrect frequency." I nod, eating methodically so I can listen and guide the fork at the same time. She leans over and pushes the napkin to my empty hand. "You've got sauce on your nose."

I wipe it off, thinking about my next round of questions.

"So how does it work? Can you all read minds?"

"No, that's just me. The others have their own abilities, but you'll see those later on. Alex's request. If I don't obey it, he’ll know, and he’ll steal something of mine."

"Wow, he really is like your nephew."

"Tell me about it."

"So, why can't you read my mind? Am I glitched, or?”

"Pardon. Do you think you're the weird one here? You are talking to a mind-reading vampire, you know. I lived through two world wars and more. That isn't exactly _normal_ , Beau."

"Okay, that is true, but like... a nerdy mind-reading vampire. A super non-scary vampire that always cheats off my math homework. A really cute one that makes my heart skip a beat whenever she’s near.”

 _That_ was meant to stay in a thought dialogue. Crap.

“Non-scary vampire is a bit of an oxy…” She pauses, eyes locked on the table with a flash of confusion and then a brilliant spark of blush on her cheeks. “Y-you think I’m cute?”

“Edythe, I almost kissed you the other day. I swear, if either of us is completely oblivious, it’s got to be you.” I take a drink to open my throat, feeling my heart pounding inside it. “I know we haven’t known each other long, and if I were a smarter person, I likely won’t say a thing. But I really, really like you.”

“Beau, I… you’re biased, you know that?”

“What, because you saved me from being squished? And raped? Maybe. Maybe I am. But you know, even without all that, I’d still fall for you. Or at least think you were completely and utterly amazing.”

"You think too kindly of me, Beau..."

I stretch my hand across the table again — ignoring her when she pulls back slightly — to touch her fingers gently. I take her hand and squeeze it, her cool, rocky skin feeling soft. Her hand shakes, and I take that as the time to pull away. Then she does something unexpected.

"When I realized you were in Port Angeles, I kept tabs on you," she admits lowly, speaking in a rush. "I had the worst feeling when you ran out of that bookstore. The same one I'd had moments before Taylor's van came at you. I lost you in the crowd, but after hearing those men... I almost crashed through the building to get there." She pauses, staring at me. "I ... I shouldn't have followed you, I know..."

"I’m not complaining... yet. Be honest, do you ever think you're just delaying my end? I figured my time was up in that parking lot."

"Beau, your time was up when you sat next to me in that biology lab."

The abrupt memory of her violent black glare that first day flashes in my mind... but the overwhelming sense of safety I now feel in her presence stifles it. By the time she looks up to read my eyes, all fear is gone.

"You remember?" she asks, her face grave.

" _Vividly_."

"And yet here you sit. Like we’re just two normal people on a date.”

"Yes, here I sit. Because of you." I point at her with my fork. "I'm unafraid, because you've given me no reason to be. As far as I am concerned, you're one of the best friends I have. I mean, I literally just confessed to you, in the worst way possible, but still.”

She purses her lips, staring at me through narrowed eyes, deciding again. Her eyes flash down to my nearly full plate and then back to me.

"You eat, I'll talk," she bargains.

I quickly scoop up some noodles and pop them in my mouth.

"I had difficulty keeping track of you. I normally don't even have to _see_ someone to know where they are, I can just follow their mind, judge the distance from that. But you... nothing. Not a damn thing —

"But Jesse was thinking at the top of his head. I searched his mind for any sign of you, but all it did was confirm his prior story of you running away. When I realized I had lost visual on you, I panicked." She clenches her fists together, eyes wide and misty. "I could barely breathe. I ran around the alleyways and backstreets thinking the worst had happened. It was when I got back to my car that I heard one of the men. Describing you to the T in his mind as he..." I gulp as a growl escapes the back of her throat.

"I drove toward that bastard, still listening, getting angrier by the second. The sun was finally setting, and I was about to get out and follow you on foot. And then —," she stops, her teeth grinding together. "Then he crossed the line. Your face was in his mind... crying and screaming... so I returned the favor." She suddenly leans forward, resting her head in her hands, eyes covered. Edythe stops there.

Finally, she looks up, eyes seeking mine, full of her own questions.

"Whatever you did that forced them back... that's what gave me the time to get there." She looks at my plate – empty. “Do you want to go home now?”

"Yeah, just…” I lean up and reach for my back pocket. Edythe stops me. “I can cover this, Edie.”

“It’s my treat.” She waves the server over.

"How are we doing?" he asks her.

"We're ready for the check, thank you." Her voice is quiet, rougher, still reflecting the strain of our conversation. He hesitates, looking at our new positions, Edythe still attached to my arm. I let out a strained chuckle and rub the back of my neck. He just blinks.

"S-sure," he stutters. "Here you go." He pulls a small leather folder from the front pocket of his black apron and hands it to her.

She has a bill ready, slipping it in the folder within a second.

"Keep the change." She tugs the sleeve, and we stand, my arm effortlessly wrapping around her shoulders. The server finally looks at me, a smidge of defeat in his eyes, and he smiles.

"Have a nice evening, lovebirds." She doesn’t look his way, but still thanks him.

I keep her close to me, a little cold but not wholly uncomfortable. I should feel like I’m protecting her, but it’s the exact opposite. Size difference aside, her body language screams defender. Eyes straight ahead, jaw set. She eases into me more once we’ve slipping into the night, the light breeze making her hair dance. The urge to kiss her rises in me. Before I know it, we’re standing at her car.

She reaches for the passenger door handle, but I stop her, taking her hand in mine. Edythe pauses, looking at me with scrunched brows and confused eyes. I take in a slow breath and lean down, my words coming out in a quivering whisper.

“May I…?” She doesn’t speak, just leans in and gently presses her lips to my own. It’s short. It’s a little stiff. But it’s out there, it’s done. My first kiss is with this phenomenal woman. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close even after we’ve stopped. My heart is racing, and for the second time I can feel hers. Slow, steady, but stronger than before. Edythe presses her face into my shoulder.

“Ready to go, Beau?”

“Yeah… I am.” We get into our respective seats, though my legs enjoy arguing with any place I try and sit. Once I’m completely settled, Edythe pulls into traffic without a glance, flipping around to the freeway. She chuckles, one hand reaching out to gently boop me on the nose.

“It’s my turn.”


End file.
